Authors: Eva Rutland
No Crystal Stair (21 page)
When he relayed the invitation to Ann Elizabeth, she readily consented. Unlike coffee with Mary Gibson, dining with Rob's boss was important. She knew that Rob liked Samples. More important, Samples liked him, had shown neither prejudice not favoritism in dealing with him. Obviously Rob had made a good impression. For his sake, Ann Elizabeth hoped that she would too.
When she first entered the Samples home, she was assailed by a wave of pure envy. This was the kind of house that, except for the color bar, she and Rob could have bought. No crumbling
walls, rotting linoleum, no rubbish to haul away. And no long daily drive for Rob. He would have been living near his work, among his co-workers in a shiny well-built house with lush carpets, smooth walls and freshly painted woodwork. She could smell the newness.
Ann Elizabeth Metcalf, you're a crybaby,
she told herself, and pasted on a bright smile as she greeted their host.
He took her hand in warm grasp. “I'm Chuck, your old man's sidekick.”
“That's not quite the way
he
tells it,”she said, tuning to a plump woman, who was obviously a nervous wreck. She looked as if she wasn't used to entertaining, but was anxious to do it right.
“My pleasure,” she said. “Do have a seat. I'll be right back.” Biting her lip, Cora returned to the kitchen; Ann Elizabeth wished she knew her well enough to offer help.
The Markses arrived, and more introductions, were made. Colonel Marks, a short hefty man with dark hair, was very affable. Hazel, his wife, seemed aloof, as if it were she and not her husband who wore the silver eagle.
The three men immediately plunged into shop talk, and she and Mrs. Marks exchanged chitchat over glasses of wine, while Cora Samples rushed back and forth serving canapes and seeing to dinner preparations. She seemed so flustered that Ann Elizabeth felt sorry for her. The men were on the other side of the room around a small bar, where Chuck was serving drinks, and she and the Marks woman were seated near the dining area, which led into the kitchen. Hazel Marks was telling her something about the Officers'Wives Club when Ann Elizabeth heard a crash and a gasp of dismay from the kitchen. She knew Hazel had heard it, too, and had decided to ignore it.
Ann Elizabeth couldn't. “Excuse me,” she said, moving toward the kitchen.
She found Cora Samples in tears, staring down at the broken pieces of a gravy bowl and the splattered remains of gravy.
“What am I going to do?” Cora wailed. “There's hardly any gravy left and the biscuits are ready to come out of the oven andâ”
“Never mind,” Ann Elizabeth said, stooping to collect broken glass. “We'll fix it. Let's just get this mess cleaned up.”
They managed to do that, but Cora couldn't hide her dismay. She said she'd decided to fix fried chicken with rice and gravy, because she usually had success with it. “But now the gravy's gone,” she wailed.
“Onion soup,” said Ann Elizabeth. “Do you have a can?”
It worked. The last bit of gravy, mixed with the onion soup, combined with the rice. They piled it on a platter, sprinkled fresh parsley over it and placed the fried chicken around it. Everyone said it was delicious.
Later Cora spoke quietly to Ann Elizabeth. “I was in such a tizzy,” she said. “And you made it all so simple. Thank you. I'd like to ... Look, can we meet for lunch next week?”
It had been a small gesture, a natural inclination to help someone in distress, but it had won Ann Elizabeth a lifelong friend.
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“Cora's too shy and warm-hearted to realize what a power she is,” Ann Elizabeth told Rob a few weeks later.
“Power?” he'd asked. “What do you mean?”
“She's the wife of top executive Charles Samples, so Cora Samples is a power among the wives. And she doesn't even know it. She's sure made it easy for me to slip in.”
He stared at her. “Into what? Parties? That's nonsense. It's you. All by yourself.” He pulled her up from the sofa where she'd been sitting, rocked her in his arms. “I've watched you. You're so unintimidated and comfortable. You make others feel that way, too. And you're... well, you're delightful. Charming. Do you have any idea how proud I am to have you beside me?”
She kissed him. “I love you, too, Mr. Metcalf.” But she knew it was Cora who had set the tone for her entry into the select circle, and she was grateful. She liked being there, like hearing about Rob.
Oh, she knew about his promotions and bigger paycheck. But it was at the small social functions that she learned of the liking and respect he had gained from the people with whom he worked. At a small dinner party, she heard Samples say, “Rob's got people savvy.”
You're right about that,” an officer agreed. ”Rob can make a mad dog lay a bone at his feet when he was all set to bite.”
“So you're a master at handling people,” she said as she and Rob drove home.
He grinned. “Have to be. People are more complex than planes, more of a challenge than fixing the bird.”
The way he spoke, it sounded simple, straightforwardâbut she knew it wasn't. By this time, Rob was a supervising engineer with a staff of four, and was traveling even more extensively throughout Europe, Asia and the Middle East. He found it a little irksome that he was accommodated more easily outside the United States than inside.
Ann Elizabeth was proud that Rob was doing so well. She kept herself busy, tried not to mind his frequent absences and never complained about them. But the house seemed empty without him. Empty without his quick light step, hearty laughter and those tunes he was always singing or whistling.
One day when he returned from a trip to Colorado Springs, he wasn't whistling or singing. He looked grim.
“Didn't the meeting go well?” she asked.
“Great!” he replied. “Mission approved in all aspects.”
“So what's wrong?” she asked.
“I just did a damn-fool thing.”
“Oh?” She felt a twinge of alarm. “Tell me.”
“I impersonated a prince.”
“You...
What
are you saying?”
“I'm saying I'm stupid. We were on a high. Great job. So. WeâWalt, Colonel Bavin and Iâfelt like celebrating. We go to this posh restaurant in Colorado Springs. Mistake. They don't serveâguess who?”
“Oh, Rob...” she knew it hurt every time it happened.
He shrugged. “Bavin gets hot, but I calm him down and we go into the Officers'Club, where we should have gone in the first place. But Bavin's still stewing the next day when we're at the hotel in Denver, waiting for the shuttle to the airport. He spots this fancy bar across the street and decides we should pay them a visit. I'm burning from the night before and tell them to go ahead without me. But Bavin insists. You're going to be Prince Ahmed, he says, and we'll be your escorts.”
“Prince Ahmed?”
“He said that an Arab monarch who was visiting the President in Washington had brought one of his sonsâme!”
“Rob! You didn't!”
He nodded. “Fool that I am, I put on that lamb's wool fez I bought in Pakistan and marched right over.”
“And what happened?”
“Royal welcome! Escorted to the best seats at the bar. Everybody sending drinks over and gaping at theâprince.'Walt was in his element, downing the free drinks and spouting off about the prince's millions. Bavin was flirting with the waitress while I sat looking princely and muttering in French.”
Ann Elizabeth, picturing the scene. Laughed.
Rob's hand hit the table, startling her. “It's not funny! I was a blithering idiot to pull such a stupid stunt just to get into some stupid bar!”
“Don't be so hard on yourself, it's not like it hasn't been done before. You know that. Any Negro can wrap a rag around his head, start talking in gibberish andâ”
“Tell me about it! It just proves that any foreigner from any country in the world is treated better than any Negro citizen in his own United States!”
Surprised by his bitterness, she was silent. She had never thought of it in quite that way.
“And I had to go them one better. I impersonated a real person. I masqueraded as the son of a royal Arab. Do you know what would have happened if we got caught?
Which we almost did.
”
“Oh no!”
“Oh yes. The owner of the bar comes over, bowing and scraping, so honored to have royalty at his establishment and he's called the
Denver Post
and their cameraman's gonna be there in ten minutes!”
“Rob!” Ann Elizabeth's hand flew over her mouth. “What did you do?”
“Got out of there pretty damn quick. Bavin made some excuse about me expecting a phone call, and said we'd be right back. What we did was grab a cab to the airport and hop the first plane headed this way.”
“My, that
was
a narrow escape.”
“Walt and Bavin were laughing fit to kill. But I was shaking in my boots. If we'd been caught, they'd have lost their commissions and I'd've been out in the street on my black ass! That is, if I didn't go to jail.”
“Goodness, I don't think...” Her voice trailed off. She had never really appreciated how Rob weathered such incidents, time after time. Negroes were still banned at all kinds of places, but people usually knew where they could or couldn't go. But for Rob, traveling to different locations and with white companions it was... Difficult. Embarrassing for his companions, too, but she didn't care about that. Maybe it was good for them to see what it was like.
Episodes of discriminations were routine for Rob, and she suspected he usually found them more irritating than embarrassing, often a major distraction from the job at hand. She marveled that he kept whistling.
She took his hand. “Let's take Bobby and Bertha's little boy to the park. I'll fix sandwiches and a thermos of hot chocolate. We can have a picnic.”
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Thankfully there were no repercussions from the Prince Ahmed incident.
Well, just one. The story circulated and became a joke among his co-workers. He was often greeted as “Prince,” and regaled with comments like “What does Your Royal Highness require?”
As the months flew by, Ann Elizabeth's life expanded far beyond the black elite circle she'd known in Atlanta. Hardly realizing it, she found herself stretching in several directionsâthe warm good-neighbor relationship with Bertha and Sue Imoto across the street, the PTA group, her Negro friends from the bridge club and the little Congregational Church, and the group at McClellan where often they were the only Negro couple at a function. Eligible now with his GS rating, Rob joined the Officers'Club, where he often had lunch with Ann Elizabeth. This was also where they attended the many social functions, seated up front as protocol required. He was always proud to have Ann Elizabeth beside him. Never intimidated by anyone, she was as much at ease with their white companions as she was with Laura or Bertha, and, small affair or large, was always a delightful guest. If she felt a twinge of envy for the shining new houses with the built-in dishwashers reserved for whites, she gave no sign.
And she made it easy for him to reciprocate. She'd worked hard with their old house, giving it a kind of style and elegance.
When it was their turn to entertain, there was a fire in the stone fireplace, and their wedding china and silver glistened in the flickering light of the candles on her mother's Chippendale table. Ann Elizabeth, daughter of Julia Belle Washington Carter of Atlanta, was a charming hostess.
She enjoyed the visits from Julia Belle and Thelma. At different times, thank goodness, for what appealed to one would not have appealed to the other.
California, with its snowy slopes in the north and sunny beaches in the south, was a wonderful state to live in. There were so many interesting trips they could take. When her parents visited, Ann Elizabeth and Rob took them on a tourâYosemite, Monterey and Fisherman's Wharf in San Francisco. “Best vacation I ever had,” Dr. Carter declared. Julia Belle said that was because it was the only vacation he'd ever had.
Sadie had also come to visit for two weeks in September. They'd shopped in San Francisco and taken several short tours and of course, spent hours just talking.
Ann Elizabeth was happy. Rob was a good husband. Bobby was a vigorous, healthy boy. She had her own home and good friends.
And now, in October 1951, she was pregnant again.
It was when Margaret Ann was born that Julia Belle grew to love her son-in-law. A month before the baby was due, she sat in her dining room in Atlanta, holding Ann Elizabeth's letter in her hand. Seated across from her were her sister, Sophie, and Claire Hastings, a wealthy Atlanta socialite who, like Julia Belle, sat on the board of regents of Atlanta University.
It seemed strange to some Negro Atlantans that Julia Belle Carter and “that white woman,” Claire Hastings, had become
such close friends. Nothing strange about it to Julia Belle, who was never intimidated by race or wealth. She was devoted to her alma mater and firm in her ideas about which direction the university should take. She had found an ally on the board in Claire Hastings. Moreover, Claire was intelligent and, like herself, born of quality folk. An equal.
Though Claire was more often at the Carter's house, she had entertained Julia Belle in her own home. Once she'd taken her to lunch at her exclusive country club, explaining quite frankly, “You're so fair, no one will guess you're colored.”
Now Claire regarded Julia Belle with troubled eyes. “What makes you think something's wrong? Her letter sounds so ... so ... lighthearted.
“Too
lighthearted,” said Julia Belle.
“Yes,” agreed Sophie. “Ann Elizabeth always puts on an unusually cheerful air when something's bothering her.”
“Exactly. That husband of hers is always off somewhere, leaving her by herself. And she's pregnant. I'm calling for reservaâ tions right away.”
“You're going this early?” Sophie asked. “It's four weeks before the baby's due. What'll you tell Will?”
“That I'd like to enjoy a little of California before the baby's born. And don't you tell him anything different. I don't want him to worry.”
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She didn't come a moment too soon. Julia Belle was appalled to learn that Ann Elizabeth had been confined to bed since the fourth month of her pregnancy.
“Something about the baby being in the wrong place,” Rob explained. “Dr. Brady says she could easily miscarry. She can't exert herself orâ”
“All this time! And you didn't tell me!”
“She insisted I not call you. Said you'd worry.”
“Worry!” Julia Belle was irate. “I'm her
mother
, I should've been here. My poor child bedridden all this time without a soul here to help her. How could you!”
She was only slightly mollified when he explained he had engaged a woman to come in every day, and Bertha, next door, was with her almost constantly.
“Not that he trusts any of us one little bit,” Bertha told her later. “Got to see after her himselfâas much as he can, what with work. He ain't done no traveling since she been like this. Hovering over her and carrying her up and down the stairs like she's a piece of china. And whistling and acting like everything's okay when you can tell he's worried to death.”
Julia Belle was sick with worry herself, despite Ann Elizabeth's assurances. “For goodness' sake, Mother, I'm fine. I've done just what Dr. Brady said, and I haven't lost the baby and I've only got a few more weeks. I
knew
you'd worry. I wish Rob hadn't told you.”
“He didn't tell me!” But he should have, she thought. Still, she hadn't told her own husband. Though she longed for Will's support and advice, she didn't want to upset him. Besides, Rob said that Dr. Brady, the white gynecologist who attended Ann Elizabeth, came highly recommended. And she did like him. He was a kindly man who seemed genuinely concerned for his patient, even making house calls because he felt it was too dangerous for Ann Elizabeth to come to him.
Though gratified by his careful attention, Julia Belle became even more concerned. Ann Elizabeth was too pale, with dark circles under her eyes. And far too thin. Nothing but swollen belly.
As the uncouth woman next door put it, “She ain't nothin'
but
baby! Don't eat enough to keep a bird alive. Didn't hardly touch that split-pea soup I brought over, and you know she need nourishment.'
Julia Belle agreed. She piled in fresh fruit and vegetables, and made sure Ann Elizabeth ate plenty of each. She took her cue from Rob and acted as if the situation was completely normal, while doing everything in her power to make it so. She vacuumed, polished, drew the draperies against the summer heat, doctored the potted plants and filled bowls with cut flowers. The neglected house took on an air of cool serenity and elegance. She was gracious to the friends who called, and even gained a certain rapport with Bertha.
“I'm glad you're here,” Ann Elizabeth admitted. “I feel like a little girl again.”
I'm glad I'm here, too,
Julia Belle thought, as she sat on Bobby's bed, directing him to make order out of the chaos that was his room.
Bobby. Her heart turned over every time she looked at her grubby grandson, almost nine years old. Ann Elizabeth said he resembled Rob, and of course there were the dimples and the eyes. But the coloring, those sturdy black curls, the lovable grinâthat was Randy. Her Randy.
“Hey, Grandma, this is the pump that goes to my gas station. I'm gonna fix it right now.”
“No. Not until you get this room straightened. Just leave it over there. And let's stack the books on the shelf where they belong.”
“Aw, Grandma. Can't we quit now?”
“Not until we finish. Then I'm going to take those pants off you and put them in the washing machine and-”
“Jeez, Grandma. These are my cowboy jeans!”
“Well they're going in the washing machine even if I have to put you in there with them.” She smiled. “I bet if you gave me a big hug and a kiss, we'd have this room done in a jiffy. And then ... guess what?”
“What?”
“I've got a surprise for you in the kitchen.”
“What surprise?”
“Where's my hug?”
He wound his arms around here and Julia Belle buried her face in his curls, savoring all his little-boy smells. He was a darling. A good-natured cheerful marvelous child. She could almost forgive Ann Elizabeth for marrying Rob. Somehow they'd produced this perfect piece of humanity. And to be fair, there was no doubt that Rob loved Ann Elizabeth. He was tender with her, yet strong and reassuring.
But at the crucial time, he faltered. Julia Belle could tell he was terrified when Dr. Brady ordered that Ann Elizabeth be taken to the hospital in an ambulance.
“She's overdue, and I don't like the baby's position. I plan to induce labor,” the doctor said. “I'm worried.” Pressed by Rob, he explained that there could be complications. “I have to be frank with you. If we delay too long...” He hesitated. “Sometimes in a case like thisânot always,” he said hastily. “But sometimes the placenta comes first, and I want to prevent that at all costs,”
“If that happens?” Rob asked.
Dr. Brady took a deep breath. “The cord could wrap around the baby's throat and strangle him, and... well, we're in danger of losing both mother and child.”
The words rang in Julia Belle's ears long after the doctor left them. She stood in the waiting room with Rob, but scarcely noticed him.“... danger of losing both mother and child.” She was back in Atlanta that night so long ago, praying, as they waited tin the basement of a white hospital to hear of Bobby's lifeâor death. What did it matter that they were now in a completely different place, a well-equipped integrated hospital in California, with two specialists attending Ann Elizabeth and her unborn child? Life and death were in the hands of God, not man.
Please, God,
she begged. Hoping the silent plea deep in her heart could reach Him.
You took Randy. Please... not Ann Elizabeth.
A sound, a slight movement beside her...
She turned to see her own stark terror reflected in Rob's eyes, heard the anguish in his frightened whisper. “I couldn't live without Ann Elizabeth.”
Her arms went around him, supporting him. Loving him.
“It's going to be fine,” she said, giving him an assurance she didn't feel herself.
Fortunately everything
was
fine. After the tormented hours of waiting, a healthy beautiful flve-and-a-half pound baby girl lay squirming in the nursery, one tiny hand touching her cheek. Vanquishing, in the way babies have, all the terror and turmoil preceding her birth.
Ann Elizabeth wanted to call her Margaret; Rob wanted to name her after Ann Elizabeth. So she became Margaret Ann. But she would always be called Maggie, Julie Belle thought, as she looked at the darling delicate girl who'd captured her heart as completely as Bobby had. There's something special about grandchildren, she reflected as she folded the soft white diapers still warm from the September sun.
And something special about a son-in-law who so obviously loves his wife. Funny how things work out. Ann Elizabeth's life wasn't as she'd envisioned it. She had wanted her married to Dan and enfolded in the kind of life she's always lived in Atlanta. Protected. But Ann Elizabeth had chosen Rob and a life that was more... how should she put it? Exposed. Exposed, yes, but still protected. Rob was the one taking the hard knocks. Oh, he joked about itâlike that Prince Ahmed caper. But under all the bantering Julia Belle sensed the humiliation he'd suffered under the barriers of prejudice that could and certainly had stifled many a man. But Rob seemed to persevere. She had
to admire him for that. Evidently others admired him, too, the way he was being sent to confer with and counsel people all over the world. Yes, she was proud of her son-in-law. Julia Belle smiled. She knew Ann Elizabeth loved Rob; she'd loved him when he was nothing but a pair of sliver wings. Now... I wonder, Julia Belle thought, if she appreciates or even realizes what he's become and how lucky she is to have him.
Anyway, Ann Elizabeth was herself again, and Julia Belle could go back to Atlanta, leaving her in Rob's capable loving hands.
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Ann Elizabeth did enjoy her life as the next several years rolled by. She didn't like Rob's being away so much, but she was proud of him. And her own life was fullâher social life with Laura and others, either in their homes or at integrated tearooms and restaurants that, in California, she took for granted. PTA, Little League, dancing and swimming lessons for the kids, teaching Sunday and Bible school, tutoring Bertha's children, especially Racine, who was turning out to be a good writer with real potential. Yes, her private life was so full that she only took a vague interest in the world outside. But she was a proud and elated spectator when certain momentous events filled the newspapers and flashed on her television screen: 1954, in a unanimous vote, the Supreme Court declares separate but equal education unconstitutional; 1955, a woman named Rosa Parks is arrested because she refuses to give up her seat on a Montgomery, Alabama, bus, and a minister named Martin Luther King, Jr., heads a passive resistance boycott, which results in the integration of Montgomery buses in 1956; 1957, 9 black children integrate a Little Rock, Arkansas, high school. President Eisenhower sends federal troops to protect them.
Yes, life was changing, she believed. For everyone in this country. But especially if you were black.