Railroad Man (3 page)

Two hours later, the boys jostled me back and forth at the Huntsville station. Marianne stood back and watched us load my bags onto the train. My eye was on her the whole time, waiting to catch hers. She waved me over. I pushed through the boys’ hold on me and ran toward her.

My sweet Marianne’s lip trembled. She held out a cylinder of brown package paper. “Here, Mickey. This is my going away gift to you.”

I unrolled the finished drawing of the Blue Heron standing on one foot in the tall reeds. The colors and eye of the bird took me back to Tern Lake and my feelings for her that day. I rolled the drawing back in place.

She reached over to peck me on the cheek. I turned sharply and planted my lips on hers. Marianne pulled away. She looked frightened, and I felt the boys watching.

“
I love you. Come with me. I’ll take care of you. We’ll have a good life. I’ll talk to Uncle Johnny Mack. I’ll make him understand. Come with me, please.”

“
Mickey, you know I can’t do that. Papa almost made me stay home today. He would be miffed for sure. You know that I love you, too. I will miss you terribly. I wanted you to have the drawing to remind you of our time together at the lake. You were so patient, sitting with me every Saturday. The other boys get bored sitting at the lake with me.”

I felt my Adam’s apple rise and fall, swallowing back the tears. My voice sounded far away and beyond my years. “I would never be bored with you, not in a lifetime. Come with me.”

Her long fingers covered her wet face. “I can’t Mickey. Papa…”

The train whistle blew, and the conductor signaled me to come aboard. The feel of her fingertips lingered on mine as we pulled away from each other. The train pulled out of the station. I hung myself out the cab window and locked eyes with those of my true love until they were no longer there.

Chapter III

Lawrenceville

1932

Mother arranged a ride for me from Atlanta to Lawrenceville. The open-bed pickup stopped at the white rail gate that led to my home place.

“
Thanks a bunch, good buddy,” I said as I slipped him a fiver and waved him off.

I stood, breathing in the clean air of home and admiring the bright blue paint job on the old farmhouse. The white gingerbread woodwork on the wraparound porch looked fresh and clean. I walked up the path, admiring Mother’s fastidious care of the place. The heavy bags weighed down my shoulders, but the sight of my mother watching me from the porch picked up my step. I loved my home place where we all looked to Mother’s strong constitution and guidance in all matters. After my father’s passing, she managed the farm and raised her family with a stern, competent hand. Mother was a no-nonsense woman who counted every penny and doted on me, her only son.

My mother was a tall, stately woman, and I loved her dearly. There had never been a problem in my life that she couldn’t solve or an ache she didn’t heal. I hoped that she could repair the silent tear I felt in my heart that day. I dropped my bags on the pebbled walkway and fell into her warm embrace. Her sturdy hug consoled me more than she could have ever known as I secretly admired the contour of her firm body. We lingered a moment at arms’ length quietly surveying each other and getting reacquainted.

“
Hello, Mother. You look beautiful as always. I’ve missed you.”

Mother’s eyes flushed with tears as I imagine were mine. “Oh, Mickey, it’s so good to have you home!”

Mother led the way down the wide hallway that ran the length of the house. My eyes lingered on the memorable things of my childhood: the grandfather clock, the coat tree, and matching mahogany benches on either side. The familiar bedroom awaited my arrival with the crispness that said home. I deposited my bags on the cedar chest at the foot of the high four-poster bed. Mother rummaged through my bags and began to organize my life the way she always had. I didn’t mind. I loved her even more for taking care of me. Throughout my life, her energy and busyness had entertained and directed me.

She eyed the brown paper cylinder. “What’s this, Mickey?”

“
Uh, that’s a gift from Marianne,” I said, pulling the drawing from its tube.

“
My—my, she’s very talented. It’s too bad that my brother is too old-fashioned to send her to Agnes Scott. She has so much promise as an artist. Well, I’ll ask Lewis to make a nice frame for it. You get settled in, now. The girls will be home soon. They will be all over themselves when they see you all grown up. They never stop asking for you. I made your favorite meal, a standing rib-roast with all the trimmings and red velvet cake for dessert.”

As she turned to go with the Blue Heron drawing tucked under her arm, I realized how much I had missed her in my life. I hoped that being home would strengthen my spirit and help me get on with life.

“
Oh, that sounds great! It feels so good to be home.”

Mother mocked me with a smile. “Do you remember how to peel potatoes?”

I threw her a wink. “I sure do!”

The smell of beef in the oven drew me to the back of the house. Long ago, my father had extended the center hallway to attach the outside kitchen. The room never lost its open and airy atmosphere, confirmed by the potbellied stove in the corner that provided heat during the winter months. I settled down on a side bench at the sturdy worktable. Mother placed a bowl of potatoes in front of me and a paring knife in my hand. She pulled the bright red cake layers from the pie safe and fluffed the creamy icing with a flat wooden spoon. Mother appreciated company while she worked in the kitchen. I ran the three-inch blade over the first potato and worked silently with my ears perked. Mother began to talk.

“
Ralph Simerson broke his lease and left the crops in the field, moved to Columbia to work in the cotton mills. He said he couldn’t support his family on today’s cotton prices. I asked him who he thought was going to supply raw cotton to the mills if people like him didn’t own up to their obligations. He always was sorry, anyway. Good riddance to white trash, I say.”

My eyes fell on my mother’s long fingers as they stacked the red layers neatly, lining them up just right. “Lewis and Sara have been a godsend. Lewis pitched in and finished this year’s crop, didn’t even ask for a dime. Sara, bless her heart, cleaned up that filthy house. So I said they could have that house and five acres with it. It’s theirs now, free and clear. Lord knows, they earned it through the years.

“
Lewis keeps things going around here like he always has. He bartered some paint work for a young steer, part of which you smell from the oven right now. Sophia and Sara planted a garden this year big enough to feed all of us. We picked and canned together, and then divided everything evenly. Lewis and Sara may be colored, but they are like family to me. We pull together and make things work in these hard times.”

She turned the cake, admired the intricate swirls of her handiwork, and heaved a long sigh. “I don’t know what I would do without them.”

Mother wiped her fingers on a damp cloth and sat across the table facing me. “Mickey, I was thinking that we might not plant a crop next year. Cotton prices are near to nothing. There’s nobody to work the farm since Ralph and all his young’uns are gone. You know Lewis is about sixty-five now; it’s too much work for a young man, much less a man his age. Now that you’re home, well, I know that you will help.”

Mother sat there looking to me for help. She had never asked anything of me in my entire life. I knew how proud she was and that she had to be in dire straits to ask anyone for anything. My sisters, Sadie and Sophia, were well-bred and well-educated. Each year that passed decreased prospects of marriage for either of them. Sadie taught grade school and Sophia taught music lessons to the sparse few who could afford it. I saw that my family needed me and my money.

I placed my hand in hers and made a solemn promise. “Of course, I will take care of you and the girls.”

Her loving eyes met mine. “You are a good son. I knew I could count on you.”

That was everything my mother needed to say to seal our bargain. The tension in her face eased as she squeezed my hand. The sound of my sisters’ voices broke the silence.

Mother nodded and released my hand. “Go to them. They have missed you so.”

I bounded up the hallway like a kid to greet my older sisters. Their faces beamed when they caught a glimpse of me. The two women engulfed me in smothering hugs. When I squirmed away from their hold, they poked, teased, and showered me with more hugs and kisses.

“
Sadie, look how big and strong our little brother is!”

Sadie fashioned herself a modern woman. She boldly took inventory of the nice edge a couple of years swinging an axe under the blazing sun had given me and growled, “You’re a Killer!”

Sophia chimed in. “That’s what we’ll call you, little brother, Killer! Sadie, don’t you think he looks just like Clark Gable?”

Arms crossed, Sadie sized me up. “Tall, dark and handsome, that’s what he is!”

I blushed fittingly and secretly basked in the attention from the lonely women. Cradling a sister on each side, I strolled unevenly down the hall. In the small formal dining room, the girls laid out the antique china and silver place settings handed down from other generations for my homecoming. Mother rolled dinner in on a butler’s cart. Soft light illuminating from the chandelier enhanced the warm glow of family love as we settled in. We praised Mother appropriately for the special food and began to fill our plates.

“
Mother, did I mention that I received a letter from Aunt Mary?” Sophia chirped as she passed the green beans.

Mother squinted out the corner of her eye. “No Dear, but I’m sure that you will tell me.”

Sophia’s close relationship with Aunt Mary was a sore subject with Mother. Sophia loved visiting Riverside even more than I did and looked at Aunt Mary like a second mother.

“
Uncle Johnny Mack and Aunt Mary have made arrangements with Clyde Kilmer to ask for Marianne’s hand in marriage,” Sophia said before filling her mouth with mashed potatoes.

Sadie’s green eyes flashed and lit up her bright red hair. “Well, what does Marianne have to say about that?” she asked, jerking the fork from her mouth.

Sophia shrugged lightly in her quiet manner. “I don’t know. I guess they haven’t told her yet.”

Sadie’s voice jumped an octave higher than usual. “How barbaric! Today women have the right to choose the President of the United States
and
who to marry—just in case the news hasn’t reached Riverside. That old man is three times her age! I wonder how Marianne feels, being auctioned off like cattle. What right do they have to play God in Marianne’s life?”

My eyes moved from one sister to the other as I followed the conversation attentively. I could see Sophia backing down from Sadie’s fiery temper.

Sophia stabbed the meat on her plate and avoided Sadie’s flashing eyes. “Well, don’t get mad at me! I’m just telling you what she wrote. In her defense, Aunt Mary said that Marianne might like the idea since Kilmer owns that big lake she loves so much.”

Mother dabbed a heavy damask napkin to her lips and gently cleared her throat. “The person one marries is very important. I think Johnny Mack and Mary are wise to help Marianne find a good match especially in uncertain times like these. While I agree with Sadie that Clyde Kilmer is up in age, I understand her parents’ concern for their only daughter’s future.”

I agreed with Sadie’s comment that my aunt and uncle were behind the times. Resentment toward Uncle Johnny Mack stuck in my craw, and I couldn’t swallow it away. Thinking of my sweet Marianne in the arms of someone else, old or not, enraged me.

Sadie looked to me for reinforcement. “Well, if you ask me, Uncle Johnny Mack and Aunt Mary are tight and old-fashioned. Mick, you know Marianne rather well. How do you think she will feel about this arrangement?”

I cleared my throat and delayed my answer until I could muster up a steady voice. “Sophia, will you to pass the beans, please? Well, I know that Marianne surely loves that lake. She keeps a diary of the bird migration from year to year. Say, have y’all ever been there? Why, it’s the most beautiful place I’ve ever seen. Twenty acres of sparkling water filled with all manner of water fowl–Osprey, Great Blue Heron, hundreds of Tern hover over the lake like a blanket.”

Mother quickly picked up on the twist in the conversation. “Oh, how wonderful! No, I’ve never seen—is it Tern Lake? Well, Marianne is a special young woman to value nature’s beauty at such a young age. I am sure that she will find plenty of ways to amuse herself, and if she marries the man, maybe I will pay her a visit.”