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Authors: Karin Tanabe

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“I didn’t know that Bessie was acquainted with W. E. B. Du Bois back in ’92,” Anita said. “We were still at Northfield together then.”

“Yes, she was,” William confirmed. “And is even more so today.”

“I feel foolish that I didn’t know,” said Anita, trying not to sound like a mere acquaintance of the bride.

“Well, Miss Hemmings,” said William, “it is hard to keep up with the actions and friendships of the pioneers of our race when you are living among Caucasians as one of them. Things will change for you after you return to Boston, as yourself.”

Anita said nothing, but her throat tightened. She was in a room full of people who were considered the very best of the Negro race, those destined, perhaps, to help transform the country, and she was the only one who had chosen to duck the obstacles of being a Negro college student. French and English descent—that’s what she had written on her college application. But it was for Vassar, she told herself as she said goodbye to William and watched him walk over to his bride. She had wanted that more than this.

As the evening wound down, Anita found herself alone
with Bessie for the first time since the ceremony. She stole her friend away and wrapped her arms around her.

“Promise me again that I won’t lose you to marriage. I don’t know what my life would be without your friendship, Bessie. We are such a part of each other.”

“Of course you won’t lose me,” said Bessie. “You’ll never lose me.”

Anita let her friend go, and looked at her, a wife.

“Do you think I made the wrong decision?” she asked. “It’s horrible to ask you such a question now, on your wedding day, but it was something your husband said to me, and now my mind is racing to the past, questioning everything I never stumbled over then. Should I have done what you did? Taken the entrance exam for Wellesley or Radcliffe and not Vassar?”

Bessie didn’t hesitate.

“No, Anita,” she said, firmly. “You took the exam for Vassar because you knew you could pass it. You’re more intelligent than I. You always have been. You had to take it, you had to prove to everyone—our everyone, their everyone—that a Negro could soar through their exam and be accepted to Vassar just as well as a white woman. They don’t know you’re there, but we know. That is the most important part. You’re so clever, so worthy; it would have been the great shame of your life if you never tried.”

“You’re braver,” said Anita. “You may wrongly think that I’m more intelligent, but you are braver. It is the Negro walking as a Negro through a white world who is braver. Always.”

“But now I’m not so brave, am I? I won’t be returning to Wellesley, I won’t be granted a degree. So now you have to obtain your A.B. for both of us. You’ll think of me when you walk for your diploma. Promise?”

“Yes, I will,” said Anita, reaching for her friend’s hand.

“Northfield was so different from Vassar and even Wellesley, wasn’t it?” said Bessie, holding Anita’s hand tight. “I miss standing on the tower of Marquand Hall with you and looking down on the campus, on the farmland, all those beautiful stone and brick buildings.” She smiled momentarily at the memory but grew serious again as the concern lingered in Anita’s face. “Sometimes I wish we were still there.”

“I’ve always wanted to ask you something, and now that I’ve started speaking like this, let me just ask it plainly,” said Anita. She knew she had to let her friend return to her guests, but she wanted to hold on to their intimacy a moment longer.

“You are not speaking inappropriately—”

“Am I a coward?” asked Anita, interrupting her. “Did I apply to Vassar because I’m intelligent and wanted to attend the very best school, or was it because I was afraid; because I no longer wanted to live as Negro in a white world, because it was too difficult?”

Bessie shook her head vigorously. “You did not do it because you were afraid,” she said. “I’ve never seen anything frighten you. As for being Negro in a white world, you were one until Northfield. That’s almost all your life. And you are one now, even if you’re the only one there who is aware of it. But think of this, Anita: Negro or not, you’ve been top of your class again and again. So no, you are not a coward. That school, those people, they are the cowards.”

CHAPTER
14

I
t was after the New Year when Anita and Frederick Hemmings had a most unfortunate encounter. In Cambridge to tutor Greek and chemistry at the home of two Negro high school students preparing for their college entrance exams, the siblings crossed the street to the side where the stately Magnolia Inn reigned. Anita had always liked the Queen Anne–style building, with its five rounded windows and bell tower, and today she wanted to observe it more closely. When she walked past the first lower window, Frederick by her side, she saw reflected there, without question, the beautiful flushed face of Lottie Taylor.

“Frederick!” she hissed at her brother. “We have to make ourselves scarce. Now!”

He looked at her trying to jump behind a carriage, but it was too late. Lottie had seen them. She clasped her hands together and ran across the street to them, waving excitedly.

“Anita and Frederick Hemmings, can that really be the pair of you?” she said through the fur collar enveloping the lower part of her face. “I thought of you both on the train to Boston, but I never did think that I would see you. And here you are, a belated Christmas present to me! I’m always
the lucky one. What are you doing here in Cambridge? And right outside the hotel where we stayed, Anita.”

“Lottie!” said Anita, wrapping her arms around her. “This is such a surprise. A most welcome surprise.” She had no idea why Lottie was in Cambridge, and she was terrified what Lottie might be able to find out about them in that city, even in a short amount of time. It was highly likely that they could run into an acquaintance from Negro Boston, or one of Frederick’s classmates from the Institute of Technology. The campus was in the Back Bay, but many students hailed from the Cambridge area. Anita had to get rid of Lottie fast. “What on earth are you doing in Cambridge?” she asked, genially.

“It was an absolute surprise of a visit!” Lottie said, her face as animated as ever. “Father is up from Tennessee and had work to attend to here, and I was growing awfully bored in New York. Yes, I know, how does one get bored in New York, especially during the season? But you see, I can get bored anywhere. I bet I could get bored sitting on the moon. So I decided to come up and pay dear Nettie a visit because she’s such fun, but I didn’t dare telegram you, Anita, so close to Christmas. That’s just not done. And besides, I don’t have your home address. But now here you are, so maybe it was a sign that I should have.”

“Well, it’s just a joy to see you, regardless of the circumstances,” Anita said smoothly. “It was starting to feel strange not to have you just a wall away.”

“Wasn’t it!” said Lottie, hugging her friend again.

While Anita and Lottie fussed over each other and the chance encounter, Frederick stood there wordlessly. Finally he said, with forced warmth, “Lottie Taylor, I’m so pleased to see you again. What a fortuitous coincidence. We are just here in Cambridge paying a New Year’s visit to an aunt who lives near the Yard.”

“Are you? I didn’t
know you two had an aunt in Cambridge,” Lottie replied. “As I said, I’m paying a visit, too. Anita knows the lady in question. Nettie Aldrich, née DeWitt. She lives just off the Yard as well. Are you headed in that direction? You should both come call on her with me. I know she would love to see you again, Anita.”

“Oh, no” said Frederick quickly. “We couldn’t impose. It wouldn’t be right.”

“And we’ve just come from that direction,” said Anita. “We were just taking some air until we headed back to Boston.”

“May we walk you toward Mrs. Aldrich’s?” asked Frederick, both he and Anita praying they could lead her away quickly. They were less likely to see familiar faces in Nettie’s sophisticated residential neighborhood.

“You must have been walking circles then. The Yard is this way,” Lottie said, pointing behind her. “Unless this is all a lie, Frederick Hemmings, and you’re actually having an illicit romance at the Magnolia? Maybe Anita is covering it all up for you?”

“Lottie!” Anita exclaimed, as she scanned the face of every passerby, fearing the worst.

“I most certainly am not,” said Frederick, the corners of his mouth twitching a little. Anita glimpsed his expression and knew his intention immediately. It was far better for Lottie to think that he had spent the day indulging in an affair at the Magnolia than that he was heading to a Negro home.

“You know, I’m in no real rush to get to Nettie’s,” said Lottie. Her face made it plain that she thought she’d touched on the truth. “Both of you are so much more interesting. And Frederick, I was awfully disappointed that you were not able to come to Phil. It would have been so much more memorable a day if you were there with me.”


Come now, I think you enjoy flattering me,” said Frederick, shepherding Lottie away from the hotel, Anita trailing behind them, still in a state of alarm. “I’m sure you had far more pleasant company.”

“Not at all!” she protested. “A Hemmings is as good as it gets.”

The three walked quickly, leaving the hotel full of holiday patrons behind them. Frederick and Anita were extremely thankful that their overcoats hid the plain clothes they were wearing underneath, as they were dressed to tutor, not to visit with Lottie Taylor.

“Come to think of it,” said Lottie, looking around her, “why don’t we all sit at the Magnolia for a while and catch up on all the holiday gossip? There’s nothing very interesting this way, and I have plenty of time. Besides, now that I’ve run into you together, I feel rude and foolish for not having tracked down your address and called on your family. If you give it to me now, I can call on you tomorrow and finally meet the rest of the charming Hemmings family.”

“I’m afraid our younger sister, Elizabeth, has come down with a terrible bronchitis,” said Frederick instantly as Anita tried to calm her pulse. “We are not having visitors this week, but I’m happy to ask Mother if she thinks Elizabeth will improve later in the week.”

“No,” said Lottie, thinking. “This week I am very taken with the occult and an illness is never a good sign. Plus, I am due to train back home with father tomorrow evening. But I’m so glad fate intervened to correct my social misstep and I was able to see the two of you today.”

Frederick saw Anita close her eyes in relief. “But let us all have something to eat at the Magnolia,” he said. “We must enjoy the pleasure of your company a little while longer, Miss Taylor.”

For the next hour, Anita and Frederick not only had to miss their tutoring appointments, which meant they would lose their positions, but they also sat rudely with their coats on, making excuses about the chill and their fear of spreading Elizabeth’s illness.

“Frederick Hemmings, as you tortured me by not attending Phil Day, I shall torture you by telling you about all the fun we had,” said Lottie between bites of Viennese chocolate cake.

Anita had been so shaken by Lottie’s sudden appearance that it hadn’t occurred to her that her roommate might tell Frederick about her attending the dance with Porter Hamilton. She looked at Lottie in a panic but was unable to catch her eye.

“Caroline and Belle, our two closest friends, attended with charming Yale men, and Anita—” She paused midsentence as Anita kicked her hard under the table. “And Anita . . .” she continued, “had a most amusing time, also, even though she was without a formal escort.”

She looked at Anita and gave her a knowing smile. “Yes, your sister is quite a wonderful dancer. Though she danced alone! Completely and utterly alone. Just her practicing steps with the wall.”

“That’s enough talk about Vassar,” said Anita, standing. “Please excuse me for a moment. I will leave you two to speak on different subjects.” She wound her way through the large room toward the powder room. Anita was used to being in cahoots with Frederick, not conspiring with Lottie to hide something from him. She hated lying to her brother, but she knew he would not be able to contain himself over Porter. He would have erupted right in front of Lottie, with an intensity that was unexplainable.

When she returned, she saw Frederick sitting alone, his
face stony. She looked around the room for Lottie and saw only the back of her coat as she hurried out of the hotel.

“What did you say to Lottie that upset her so?” she asked in alarm.

“What did I say, Anita?” said Frederick angrily. “I explained to the aristocratic Lottie Taylor that we could never be romantically involved. That I would be a great disappointment to her if she knew me better. I told her to give up hope with regard to any sort of romance, that she had to forget me at once.”

“You didn’t!” said Anita, choking out the words. She was quite sure that no man had ever spoken to Lottie Taylor that way and that she would be furious. “How could you do such a thing?”

“I had no choice, did I?” said Frederick coldly. “We are but a short journey from the institute where I attend school as a Negro, she asked for our home address to call on us later this week—don’t you realize how dangerous this all is?” he said, motioning to the hotel’s sumptuous lobby. “Do you realize what I do for you, Anita? To protect you? The things I should say to you now, the things I could!”

“I have no notion what you are talking about, Frederick,” said Anita. “Just speak plainly.”

Frederick looked at her, anger etched on his face. “I don’t have a thing to say. You seem intent on ruining your life despite my advice, so please, Anita, continue to do so.”

CHAPTER
15

O
n their first day back in January, Anita left her room in the afternoon for her required exercise. When she returned a half hour later, Lottie was reclining on the couch in their parlor, her head on a velvet pillow, waiting for her.

Taking barely a second to greet Anita, Lottie launched into a riff on her plan to eat all of Belle Tiffany’s dinner along with her own because Belle was in the infirmary and being forced to starve away her fever.

BOOK: The Gilded Years
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