Railroad Man (9 page)

As the car pulled away from the curb, Flo turned around in her seat to take another look. “Wouldn’t it be just the best to live in a house like that?”

Flo’s excitement touched that spot in my heart reserved especially for her. “Yeah, it’s pretty nice, all right.”

On the way home, Flo looked through her new movie magazine. I thought about the house that she liked so much. Lately, Flo and Mother had been at odds with each other. Mother never warmed up to Flo after the baby died. She complained that Flo spent her days in our bedroom primping and listening to the radio. Mother had a strict housekeeping schedule and expected Flo to do her share. After a long week away from home, I looked forward to holding my wife. Week after week, I found myself standing up to Mother to keep the peace between Flo and me.

Mother would say, “That girl is as lazy as the day is long.”

Sadie wrote Flo off as a ninny and ignored her. Sophia enjoyed visiting Flo in our bedroom. She liked the scent of Flo’s lilac perfume that filled the air. Flo coiled Sophia’s hair into the latest style and shared her collection of fashionable hats. They listened to big band music on the radio, and Sophia helped Flo read her first novel,
Gone With The Wind
. I was grateful to Sophia for being Flo’s friend. Flo would have a miserable life while I was away if left with only Mother and Sadie. I was put out with both of them for the way they treated my wife.

One Sunday evening, I retired to the parlor with a copy of
Railroad Magazine.
Mother was there, opening mail at her secretary. The tension between us had risen steadily over the past year. As much as Mother meant to me, my loyalty remained with Flo. I felt that Mother should have been kinder to Flo. She should have risen above the pettiness that gnawed at her and tried to help Flo, the way Sophia had. Mother also weaved her feelings toward my wife into our conversations, sometimes asking me to take her side. Expecting a battle every time I saw Mother kept me on guard, and I spoke to her less and less.

Mother turned around in the swivel desk chair, holding a letter in her hand. “Mickey, I have a letter here from the RFC in Atlanta.”

I set my magazine aside. “What’s RFC?”

Mother tilted her head back to read through the small lens of her spectacles. “It’s the Reconstruction Finance Corporation on the behalf of the Federal Emergency Relief Administration. It says here that these state programs support FDR’s WPA program.”

Looking at Mother while she read the letter, I noticed that she had gained weight, and her hips filled the spaces between the rungs of the chair.

“
What do they want with us?” I asked.

Mother interpreted the letter. “They’re looking for timber for new government construction projects in Atlanta. They plan to build housing for poor people. The letter says they’ll pay top dollar. Well, what do you think of that?”

“
Does the letter say how much they’ll pay?”

Mother shook her head. “No. There’s just an address on Peachtree Street and telephone number.”

“
If you’d like, I’ll make an appointment and go with you to see what it’s all about.”

Mother sighed. “That sounds fine. I think this Depression is finally winding down. It’s about time. Maybe we can get some extra money coming into the house again. I’d like to replace the wood burning stove in the kitchen with a gas burner and plaster the wallboard with the extra money. You can help Lewis do that in your spare time.”

I shifted on the divan. I had no intentions of remodeling Mother’s kitchen. She hadn’t even bothered to teach Flo how to cook. Besides, I had a strict schedule to meet during the week. I wouldn’t be spending my time off plastering walls when I could afford to buy a brand new house of my own. I attempted to introduce the idea to Mother.

“
It looks like construction is picking up. Jack bought a brand new house over in Decatur; new neighborhoods are sprouting up all around.”

Mother lost interest and turned back to her secretary. “That’s nice, dear.”

The black nose of a Decapod locomotive stared at me from the magazine cover. The headline read,
Say So-Long to Steam.
Guys at the station talked diesel day and night. Men threatened to leave. They said, “The Golden Age is over. Nothing will ever be the same.”

At thirty-three, I had a long way to go in my career. The steam engine was all I knew. I worried about the change to diesel and how it would affect my future. Selling the timber would allow me to buy that house in Decatur before they retired my engine and possibly get rid of me, too. I had been a good son, helping Mother and the girls financially for almost ten years. Mother and Sadie’s attitude toward my wife was poor payment for my generosity. I decided to talk to the man alone. Maybe sway the transaction in my favor without Mother’s greed and interference.

I turned on my way out the door. “Uh, Mother. May I have that letter? I’ll give the man a call from the station.”

Mother stuffed the letter back in its envelope. “Thank you, Son. I can always depend on you.”

I stuffed the letter in my pocket and smiled as I walked to the bedroom where Flo waited.

The next day, I called the man at the Federal Building downtown before I left on my scheduled run. He agreed to see me on Friday at noon.

Friday morning, I checked into the YMCA to bathe and change into my best suit of clothes. I felt small climbing the wide steps leading to the Federal Building, small and anxious. I hoped that the RFC would pay Mother enough money for the timber behind the home place to set me free.

The receptionist met me with a sexy smile and directed me to the third floor. Mr. Jones, a small frail man with spectacles, sat behind his desk in a white shirt and red striped bowtie. He gave me a surprised look.

“
May I help you?” he asked.

I checked my pocket watch that kept railroad time, 11:55. “Mick MacDonald, here. I have an appointment.”

The little man checked his roster.

“
I’m here about the forty-five acres of timber in Lawrenceville.”

The man stood and extended his hand, the top of his head barely reaching my shoulder blades. “Of course, Mr. MacDonald, forgive me, it’s been a very busy day. I’m Joad Jones. Please sit.”

Mr. Jones settled back into his seat. “We sent a letter to every property owner in the state who had a tract of twenty acres or more of timber. You can imagine the response we’ve received.”

I sat forward and twirled my fedora. “How much are we looking at?”

Mr. Jones shot back. “What do you have?”

“
Well, there’s oak, maple, and poplar mostly, full grown as far as I can tell.”

Mr. Jones leaned back in his chair. “We’re paying top dollar, Mr. MacDonald, twenty-two dollars an acre.”

Nearly a thousand dollars, I thought. That’s more than I put into the household in a year. Mother should be pleased with that. Now it was time to turn this deal in the right direction.

“
That sounds more than fair, Mr. Jones. You see, I’m here on behalf of my mother, Mamie MacDonald. Mother is a country woman, unaware of business affairs. She asked me to make the necessary arrangements, considering her lack of knowledge in such matters, if you please.”

Mr. Jones smiled, tight-lipped. “Of course I understand, Mr. MacDonald. After all, a woman’s place is in the kitchen, not here on Peachtree Street. I’ll prepare the papers for you, and you can pick them up later today.”

I shook hands with the man and moved on to my next stop. I walked up Peachtree Street to the Federal Home Loan Bank. The bank teller behind the iron bars met me with a handlebar mustache and smug smile. He led me to the clerk sitting behind a desk.

It was Mr. McCoy who shook my hand this time and asked me to have a seat. I gave him the address of the house I wanted to buy. He pulled out a cardboard chart.

“
Mr. MacDonald, the house at 64 Edinburgh will run you about $3,900.”

I let out a slow, meaningful whistle. I pulled the Southern Railway card out of my pocket. “I’m a railroad man, you see, an engineer
,
going on ten years now. How about giving me a loan on that house?”

Mr. McCoy held the card and flashed a toothy smile. “It is our pleasure to serve you, Mr. MacDonald.”

When I walked out of the bank, I held the keys to my new home and a payment of thirty-five dollars a month for ten years. I lined the front wheels on the concrete strips that led down to the car garage. The car garage was the first place I looked. Lifting the wooden door, I could look straight through the sturdy building at a four-pane window in back. A line of shelving ran under the window. Outside the car garage, I noticed a small door leading to a basement I hadn’t seen before. I used the skeleton key to open the door.

A basement, I never imagined that I’d have a basement. Windows in back of the house gave light to a half-basement, half-crawlspace. A steam-producing boiler furnace sat in the middle. The boiler furnace fascinated me, having had experience with boilers in the train engine. I climbed the stairway behind the boiler that led to the main floor.

I entered the house in a hallway that connected two bedrooms and a washroom. The house was fresh, bright and airy. I circled the hallway from the formal dining room to a roomy living room with a fireplace and bookshelves, and a third bedroom in front. The kitchen was cozy and compact compared to Mother’s rambling kitchen. I walked out through a large pantry that led to a metal fire escape and the backyard below.

I look around, amazed at my brand new brick home. I thought, Flo will be so surprised.

***

I drove back to Atlanta and picked up the papers for Mother to sign. Later, I was relieved to find that my assumption was correct. Mother jumped at the $990 offer from the RFC. I left Mother in the parlor sharing her good fortune with Sadie.

I stretched out on the bed with Flo. Lying in bed with Flo had become my favorite pastime. She usually had the radio on while I touched her silky skin. The fact that Flo liked attention didn’t hurt my chances of getting underneath her skirt.

“
I have a surprise for you, Kitten,” I said, running my hand up her thigh.

Flo knew my track record of delivering nice surprises. I had given her dresses and hats, fancy bedcovers and organdy curtains, expensive perfumes and a diamond wedding band.

Flo nudged my shoulder with her fist. “What? What is it, tell me?”

My eyes concentrated on her bare thigh. “You know that nice house you liked in Decatur?”

“
The house? You mean we’re really going to live there?” Flo squealed and jumped on top of me, causing the bed to bang against the wall. I worried that Mother would knock on the door. Suddenly, I was lost in Flo’s delicious kisses and forgot about everything but her. She braced her arms. Her beautiful face hovered above mine.

“
I have a surprise, too.” Flo rolled over and revealed the lump I’d failed to notice. She covered the small lump with her hand and smiled at me.

Flo and I bubbled over with excitement at dinner that July evening. Sadie and Sophia sat solemnly after the week’s long circuit ride from school to school. Mother was unusually quiet and sullen. Her moods changed with the wind in those days.

I cleared my throat and stifled a laugh. “Mother, Sadie, Sophia, Flo has an announcement to make.”

Flo glowed when all eyes fell on her face. She beamed perfectly and said, “I’m going to have a baby.”

Sophia clapped her hands, delighted. “Oh Flo, I’m so happy for you—and you, too, Mickey. Having a little one in the house will be exciting.”

Mother stabbed the food on her plate, not looking at Flo. “Well, I just hope you’ll take care of it. I’m in no condition to be rocking a baby all night.”

Mother’s comment crossed a line. She had a lot of nerve ruining our special moment. I threw my napkin aside and said, “Well, Mother, that brings me to my surprise. I bought Flo and me a brand new brick house in Decatur. We’ll be leaving as soon as it’s ready.”

Mother dropped her fork. She sent me the hurt, disappointed look that used to unnerve me. Mother’s looks had no control over me now. I stayed after dinner to help Mother stack the dishes on the butler’s cart. She brushed by me and bustled around me like she didn’t want me there.