The Sweetest Thing (20 page)

CHAPTER

18

Dobbs

Frances and Coobie went back to Chicago in late August. I cried at the train station as I waved good-bye, wishing I could keep them in Atlanta, where they were safe and well fed. Then I thought of the envelope I had tucked into Coobie's bag with the cash I'd made helping Perri sell her Summer Shots. I hoped that with it, Mother could buy groceries that she'd turn into delicious dinners.

The day they left, Mae Pearl insisted that I meet her at the club “to get your mind off of sad matters and on to fun things,” as she put it.

I found her sunning by the pool, looking fabulous in a bright blue swimming suit that set off her eyes and platinum blond hair. She had her slim legs stretched out in front of her on the lounge chair. Her friends were right—she could very well be the next Joan Crawford or Greta Garbo. Even I knew their names. Mae Pearl saw me, waved, and patted the lounge chair beside hers, and said, “I'm so glad you came. Sit down, sit down!” Her face clouded and she asked, “Oh, how are you, having said good-bye to your precious sisters?”

“It was no fun at all,” I admitted.

“Well, I have just the thing to help you. I've been talking to Macon and Lisa, and they agree that you ought to go through Rush this year.”

Before I could protest, she hurried on. “I know you were against sororities at first, but surely not now. Why, with your enthusiasm, I bet we could name the Alms Houses as our charity for this year. Please consider it, Mary Dobbs. The Rush parties start in two days, and they are so very delightful. To die for!”

She had caught me off guard with her suggestion. “Oh, Mae Pearl. That's sweet of you, but I don't have a cent to my name. I can't pay sorority dues, much less anything else.”

“Now, don't worry your pretty little head over that. That's not a problem.”

“Mae Pearl, you know as well as I do that just about everybody around here thinks money is a problem, even if they don't admit it.” I sounded more like Perri than myself.

“But, Mary Dobbs, you're the one always talking about how God provides.”

I knew my eyes betrayed me. I thought she was way off Scripture, expecting God to provide money for a sorority fee, but I just couldn't bear to hurt sweet Mae Pearl, so I said, “I'll think about it.”

And for some reason, I did. That whole day and the next. During the past few weeks at the club, tiny Lisa Young and Mae Pearl and I had often gotten into discussions—Peggy and Brat still refused to talk to me—and sometimes Macon would join in, too, talking excitedly with her hands and shaking her red mane. I found that those girls could talk about all kinds of things—not just movies and boys and parties but also finances and family and how to help people less fortunate. Mother had often told me,
“Mary Dobbs, you will never win people to Christ by pointing out their failings. You have to learn to care about them and love them first.”

Father said it a different way, leaning over the pulpit, his voice booming—
“Unsolicited advice is always interpreted as criticism.”

In my room that night I went over my conversations with Hank and Mother about sororities and parties and movies, and I came to the conclusion that if I wanted to help the Washington Seminary girls, I needed to be part of their group. Suddenly it was crystal clear, a very legitimate way to get to know them better so that eventually I could introduce them to Christ.

So I decided I would attend the Rush parties, which took place at different girls' homes at the beginning of September. I reasoned that if God wanted me to be a part of a sorority, He'd let me be chosen.

When I told Aunt Josie that I was “rushing,” she was thrilled and assured me she would pay the dues and offered to buy me new dresses.

“Couldn't I just wear some of Becca's dresses? She has so many gorgeous ones.”

My aunt winced. “Becca is being a bit difficult at the moment. She's having a hard time with this pregnancy. I think we shouldn't touch those dresses right now. Anyway, you know how I love to shop, dear. I can't solve all the world's problems, but I can buy you a few more dresses for Rush. Nothing could make me happier.”

I agreed for one reason only; it would give me time alone with Aunt Josie—and I could ask her about the toolbox.

———

The next afternoon, I broached the subject. “Aunt Josie, I'm sorry to bring it up, but I have to know. Do you believe me about the things I found in Mr. Singleton's toolbox? It would kill me to think you thought I'd made it all up. I promise I found those things.”

We were in Rich's, and my aunt was studying the seams on two lovely tea dresses. She went right on looking at the dresses with her back turned to me. At last she handed me a deep burgundy chiffon frock. “This one will be perfect on you, Mary Dobbs. You have such a tiny little waist and adorable figure. I never could wear anything like this, what with my big bosoms—they sprouted when I was only thirteen and there wasn't a thing in the world to do but accept it.”

I couldn't help but grin at her. I took the dress and slipped into a changing room where several other dresses we'd chosen hung. My grin faded as I realized that my aunt had ignored my question.

But when I stepped out of the changing room, she had tears in her eyes. “You look absolutely stunning in that color, Mary Dobbs.” Then she wiped her eyes and whispered. “I know you didn't make any of that up, Mary Dobbs. I know you found those stolen things, and you were right to tell me. Now you have to leave it alone. It's not your problem, and if you start hunting around, it will end up worse for everyone.”

I twirled around, let the full skirt billow out, and said as lightly as possible, “Did you tell Mrs. Singleton about the toolbox before you went over to look at it?”

“Mary Dobbs, I'm telling you to leave it alone.”

“But it's unfair to Anna! I should tell the police.”

“You will only cause a great deal of trouble for yourself. Please, dear, be reasonable.”

“Was it Becca? Did you tell her?”

My aunt took me by the shoulders and put her face to within a few inches of mine, so that our noses almost touched. I could smell the thick scent of her perfume. “Child, don't ask. Please drop it. I believe what you told me is true, and I know you long to make things right for Anna, but you can't. And I cannot answer your questions because I honestly don't know what happened to the stolen things.”

“But you suspect something.”

“Trust me, dear girl, when I say it is much more complicated than you can imagine. Please promise you won't talk of it again. Not to me or Uncle Robert or Perri or her family. Please.” She looked almost desperate—not angry, just interminably sad and desperate.

I bit my lip and nodded. “I'm sorry for the trouble I've caused. I won't bring it up again.”

“There now, dear girl.” She smothered me against her bosom, patting me on the back.

Aunt Josie found three more absolutely exquisite dresses for me to try on, and each time I stepped out of the changing room, her face lit up in a way that made her look like a peer, not my middle-aged aunt.

I chattered with Aunt Josie about proper etiquette for the Rush parties all the way home. But in the back of my mind, I wondered why in the world I found it so hard to follow the advice of Anna and Mother and Aunt Josie and Hank. For some reason, I simply
had
to know the answer.

———

On the night of the first Rush party, Aunt Josie came into my bedroom holding a box filled with mascara and lipstick and blush.

“You'd never know it, but all my girl friends used to ask me to do their makeup.”

“Oh, I believe it, Aunt Josie. Perri and I are always saying you have the best taste in clothes, and you always look so put together and sophisticated. Mother says it too.”

Aunt Josie beamed at me, and then set about applying my makeup.

When she was done I was so excited I could barely zip up the burgundy dress. Aunt Josie helped me, and then she whisked me out to the Pierce Arrow and drove me to the home of Virginia Hopkins, one of the senior Phi Pis.

I walked up the long winding driveway with my mouth almost hanging open. The drive was lined with little candles on either side, and more candles adorned every window in the redbrick mansion. My hands started sweating in my white gloves, and my throat went completely dry. The air was fresh and warm. I felt I had floated up into a dream world, and I could not stop smiling.

The point of the Rush parties was for the girls already in the sorority to talk to the girls being “rushed,” to see if the rushees were an appropriate fit for a particular sorority. I had heard from Mae Pearl that the sorority girls all stayed late in the night after the party and voted yes or no for each girl. It seemed like the height of elitism to me, and yet that night, I found it perfectly enchanting.

I had decided to surprise Perri and show up at that first party without telling her, imagining her delight. But when she saw me holding my crystal goblet filled with pink punch, she had a shocked look on her face, and I thought that perhaps she felt betrayed. Then she smiled and shrugged and said, “You never cease to amaze me, Mary Dobbs Dillard. Unpredictable is what you are!” She gave me a hug and whispered, “You just better be sure you pledge Phi Pi—you understand?”

The next night, and the night after that, I hurried home from school so that I could get dressed up in a pretty dress, put on some of Aunt Josie's jewelry, and let her apply my makeup. I enjoyed every minute of the experience—the beautiful homes, delicious food, fancy dresses, and girls coming by to talk to me. Every time the occasion presented itself, which was pretty often, I got to tell them that my father was an itinerant preacher, that he held revivals, and that I helped when I could. The girls listened politely and a few even seemed interested.

Of the three sororities, I knew I would choose the Phi Pis. Fortunately, in spite of Peggy and Brat's almost certain disapproval—a
no
vote—the Phi Pis chose me too.

———

Being part of the Phi Pis changed my life at Washington Seminary that fall. Suddenly I belonged. I was no longer the long-haired preacher's kid from Chicago, but rather a Phi Pi. The younger girls looked up to the senior Phi Pis with something like awe. My sorority sisters greeted me in the hallway and invited me to eat lunch at their table. I wrote letters to Mother and Hank, thanking them for encouraging me to reconsider my rash decisions—I called them my “rush” decisions—and explaining the new friendships I was making.

Perri and I still spent two afternoons a week taking photos and several nights a week in the darkroom. Ever since she had moved to the little house on Club Drive, no boys came to her house for pop-calling. She went from the girl of a thousand dates to a lone princess.

Of course, she still had Spalding, and most weekends she attended parties with him. But I hurt for her—the way the distance of a few miles and the size of a house made all the difference in the social scene in this part of Atlanta. Dellareen still fixed marvelous cookies, but no boys showed up, and Perri and I ended up eating many of the cookies ourselves.

The sorority did a few things for charities—Perri had headed up the Red Cross Club for the past two years, and at Christmas, the girls bought gifts for families in need. It seemed they were used to philanthropy, and I hoped they would appreciate an idea that was brewing in my overactive imagination.

On a Tuesday afternoon, I got Hosea to drive me to the Alms Houses. Peggy, who all of a sudden had decided to tolerate my presence and even talk to me, walked across the street from her house to meet me in front of the White Alms House. We talked with Mrs. Clark about the needs of the Alms Houses and asked how the Phi Pis could be of help.

“The two main things these people need are warm clothes for winter and the kindness of human touch. If a few of you girls could come visit each week, why, it would mean the world. Mr. Ross looks forward to Mae Pearl's visits like you wouldn't believe.”

When we left, Peggy looked at me and said, “You're the real thing, aren't you, Mary Dobbs?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“You really do care about the poor and the prisoners, and you aren't one bit afraid to get involved. I used to think you were a bunch of hot air—with your cockamamie stories—but maybe I was wrong.”

All I could think to say was “Thanks, Peggy.”

We presented Mrs. Clark's requests to the girls at the next sorority meeting, and they enthusiastically agreed to make regular visits to the Alms Houses. When Mae Pearl suggested we plan a Christmas party for the residents, the Phi Pi girls came up with fabulous ideas, and I thought,
You've misjudged them, Dobbs. They can teach you many things.

———

In October, I started an afternoon Bible hour for the girls in the sorority. Perri was sure no one would show up, but on the first Tuesday afternoon, eleven girls were there, including Macon, Mae Pearl, Lisa, and Perri. Even Brat and Peggy arrived ten minutes late.

“I've been wrong, girls,” I started out. “I came down here and judged you and your money and acted overly zealous and religious, and I'm sorry.”

Every girl stared at me. No one spoke.

“Thank you for letting me be a part of this sorority, in spite of my early faux pas.”

I started reading from Matthew chapter five, where Jesus was talking to His disciples in the Sermon on the Mount. The girls listened intently, and when I got to the verse, “Blessed are they that mourn: for they shall be comforted,” I couldn't help but glance over at Perri, and she met my eyes and nodded the slightest bit.

———

As soon as I joined the Phi Pis, it was as if someone shouted through a megaphone to every boy in town that the Chandler residence was now open to receive pop-calling. Aunt Josie and Uncle Robert thought it great fun to watch their side porch crowded every afternoon with teenagers from Boys High and college guys from Emory, Oglethorpe, and Georgia Tech. At first, I was mortified and wanted to shoo them all away. Then I decided to play the pop-calling game with my rules. Parthenia helped me bake up yummy treats, and while the boys munched on brownies and coconut cookies and lemon squares, I told them all about salvation.