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Sentell Leonhirth |
The Trunk
Prologue
My earliest memories are of my Aunt Pauline calling me "the little bastard." Of course, never in front of anyone except my mother. She was always the perfect lady when the minister and the members of the Ladies Aid Society visited or around her customers. Pauline Cooper was a seamstress, or she liked to be called a "modiste." My great-aunt's shop was on the lower floor of her large two-story house.
I never knew my father. He was killed in a fight with another soldier before I was born, so I only have Mama's word that they were married, and Aunt Pauline argued the subject every time she was annoyed.
I've asked why we lived with our aunt, and Mama says she had nowhere else to go. When she returned, seven-months pregnant, and asked to be taken in again, she was called wayward, ungrateful, and an embarrassment before Aunt Pauline's friends and customers.
"I took you in when you were orphaned and gave you a good Christian home, and you run off the first chance you get with a soldier. Now you've came back with that little bastard for me to keep."
"I've always worked for what I've got here," my Mama said. "Scrubbed and cooked and helped you sew. I loved Jack and wanted a place of my own. You didn't want us to marry, so I had to go."
"Yes, and look where it got you," Aunt Pauline responded.
It was always the same. Many nights I would put pillows over my head trying to shut out the sound of their voices. Neither ever showed me any affection. I was kept clean and well-fed, but I learned very early that they both resented me.
Seldom did I leave the house and small yard. I wasn't taken to church or allowed to go to school. Year round I was kept busy. From daylight when I sponged off in cold water, dressed, and braided my hair, I worked.
By the time I was seven, I could hem a dress and sew on a long row of buttons. If any were out of line, Aunt Pauline cut them off, and I had to start over. It wasn't long before I learned to do it right the first time.
Mama did the cooking and shopping. I helped her with the cleaning. I stayed in the kitchen when the customers came to the shop for fittings and to choose patterns for the dresses and coats Aunt Pauline made on her sewing machine. Sometimes they would bring their children, and I would sneak down the hall and peak through a crack in the door. I wished I could talk with the little girls. They had such pretty clothes and their hair in curls, but one day I was caught, and Aunt Pauline grabbed me by the hand and taking me into the kitchen, closed the door.
"Emma, don't you let find Lizzie in the front hall again when I have customers, or you both will be sorry."
As she left the room, my mother turned from the table where she was chopping vegetables. "You know better than to go near the shop, Lizzie. I thought you had gone upstairs. Now I'll be in for another lecture on how much trouble you are." Mama spoke in a harsh voice.
"But, Mama, why can't I talk to the children?"
"Because you can't. Do you want us to be put out of the only place we have to stay? Now you go upstairs and bring down some dirty clothes, so I can wash them."
My mother, Emma Bates, was a pretty woman, not too tall, and she was slender. Her brown hair, like mine, was braided around her head. Several men she had met out shopping had come by the house and asked her out to walk with them, but Aunt Pauline had quickly discouraged them coming again.
"Like dogs after a scent, they are," Aunt Pauline said. "They know what you are, and I know they aren't after marriage. I thought that I'd welcome a chance to rid myself of you and Lizzie, but all I'd get would be another bastard to feed."
"Stop calling her that!" my mother pleaded. "How many times do I have to tell you that Jack and I were married? How would your fine customers and your preacher feel, if they knew how you talked when they aren't here for you to put on airs."
Aunt Pauline stood up. "You show me your marriage license, and I'll believe you. Until then, you shut up and get to work or get out."
"Jack put the paper somewhere, and I never could find it after he was killed," Mama said.
"You could write the preacher who married you, but you can't remember his name," Aunt Pauline answered. "Now, no more lies."
Aunt Pauline had two passions: money and food. Her husband, Uncle Aaron, left her well off, but she continued to sew and save her money. The only thing she never complained about was the money spent on food. Being short and very stout, she would have severe attacks of indigestion after a large meal. The doctor had to be called several times, and he always spoke to Mama afterward.
"Miss Pauline is going to die if she doesn't take better care of herself. I've told you before, Emma, that your aunt is too stout and laced to tight. The pressure on her heart is dangerous. Can't you do something about the situation?"
"If Aunt Pauline wants to stuff herself, how I am going to stop her?" Mama asked. "Do you think she would listen to me? Her temper equals her appetite."
"Now that is no way to talk about your aunt," the doctor said, "after all she's done for you and your child." He picked up the black bag and his hat. A large man with a florid face, gray hair, and side whiskers, he dressed in dark clothes, and a heavy watch chain hung across his vest. Taking out his watch, he checked the time, and then he replaced it.
"I will be back in the morning unless you need me again tonight. He went out the door, closing it louder than usual.
Aunt Pauline recovered again, but it was no surprise several weeks later that after a supper of pork roast, baked potatoes, soda biscuits, several helpings of vegetables, and iced pound cake, she had a seizure, and the doctor, getting help, had her carried to bed. She was in a stupor. The doctor told Mama that Aunt Pauline had suffered a stroke.
I didn't like going in where she lay - her mouth open and her snoring noise filling the room. Her bed was stripped over and over again. There always was a huge laundry, and trying to feed her spoonfuls of broth or custard, most of it ran out of the corners of her mouth.
It was summer, and the large wood stove was kept going, so water could be kept hot. I washed dishes and helped cook. The doctor had sent a woman to help with Aunt Pauline, and a man came to chop the wood and keep the wood box filled. The shop had been closed. The women had come for their material and dresses that only had been partially completed.
Neighbors and churchwomen came with food and sympathy until Mama found one of the women going through Aunt Pauline's desk. "Please, don't any of you come again," Mama told the women. "Aunt Pauline doesn't know you're here, and I don't have time to sit and gossip with you."
Mrs. Hendrix stood up. "Well, Mrs. Cooper had told us what type you are, and we can see she was right. Don't know how your aunt has put up with you all these years. We will leave now, but don't think this is the last of it."
She and two other women marched out of the room, and Mama locked the front door.
One morning at the end of the third week after her stroke, Aunt Pauline died.
Half the town turned out for the funeral. Mama went, and I stayed at home. Afterward, the lawyer came by the house and had a long talk with Mama. I heard her voice raised in anger several times. The lawyer went over the house, room by room. "There are some real nice pieces of furniture here. Bring a good price," he said.
Color was bright on Mama's cheeks. "I don't care what it brings since I'm not getting any of the money."
"Now, Miz Bates, no need to take that attitude. Miz Cooper wanted the church to have the results of her hard work. After the funeral expenses and I get my fee, there will be a nice sum left," the lawyer said, as he smoothed thin black hair across his head.
"Uncle Aaron and I earned most of that money," Mama told him. "Most of what she had he left her. I helped her sew, and Lizzie and I did most of the hard work. When I came her, she let her servant go, and I had to take over."
"She gave you a home for years. She saw you and that girl of yours had shelter and food," the lawyer said as he glanced down at me with pale blue eyes. I sat near the door. "I never noticed before - pretty little thing isn't she.
"I'll be back tomorrow with the clerk to list everything. Do you think you could be out by end of the month? I want to get the house and furniture sold and everything settled up."
I saw him smile as he moved past Mama. His teeth were stained with tobacco.
"We will be gone as soon as I can pack," Mama said. "I want you to leave now."
The lawyer reached for his hat that lay on a nearby table. "Fine. Fine. Just remember Miz Cooper only left you her sewing machine and sewing chest. Said you could make your own way with those."
Mama looked so odd. I was frightened. I stood up and moved away from them. Mama went over and opened the door. "I'm not planning on stealing anything here. Get out, now."
He left, and I heard him going down the steps. Mama was in our bedroom, and following her, I saw her drag a trunk from the large closet and began taking clothes from the chest of drawers - then jerking dresses from hangers.
"What's happening, Mama, and where are we going?"
She stopped folding a petticoat and looked at me. "We're leaving here. I've been saving a little here and a little there over the years from the laundry money. I earned every penny of it. There's enough for train fare, and some left over. Knew she would be spiteful to the end." She turned back to the packing.
"But where are we going?" I repeated.
Without turning around, she answered me. "You pa came from a little country town called Jason's Hollow. I imagine it's grown some since he left there when he was a boy. He never forgot it. No matter what Aunt Pauline said, we were married, and he was a good man.
"He tried to stop that other soldier from mistreating a young boy and got himself killed. Jason's Hollow is as good a place as any. Start helping me with these things. Leave out clean clothes for tomorrow and pack the rest. I'll be glad to see the last of this place."
That was the most she had ever said to me about my pa. I looked to going to a new place, and we left the next morning, never looking back.
We rode the train for two days. It was hot and dirty. We got out and walked around at the longer stops and found a washroom. Mama bought sandwiches and milk when she could. We kept to ourselves as much as possible and didn't talk to the other passengers. The seat was hard, and I tired of looking out the window. I hoped we would arrive soon.
A large woman across the aisle had a basket filled with food. She ate her way through fried chicken, hard-boiled eggs, biscuits, and piece of apple pie. I thought of the dry sandwiches we had, but tried not to let her see me watch her eat, but she glanced up. "You sure are a little thing. Need fattening up."
I felt Mama stiffen beside me, but she ignored the woman.
Searching in the basket, the passenger brought out a large red apple. "Here, you can have this."
I started to reach out, but Mama shook her head. "No, thank you."
The woman shrugged. "Suit yourself."
A few minutes later, the train pulled into the station. We had reached Jason's Hollow.
Our trunk and the sewing machine and chest were taken from the baggage car and put near us on the platform. She asked one of the men if he knew of a cheap board house nearby.
"Sure ma'am, the only one in town. There's the hotel, but you wouldn't want that or the inn." He called to a tall, thin man standing nearby. "Hey, Ben, you want to help this lady with her things? She wants to go to Miz Wylie's."
The man walked over and looked at us. "You want to hire my wagon?"
He was over six feet tall, but his shoulders were rounded, so he looked shorter. His hair was light brown and looked dirty as were his clothes.
I stepped closer to Mama, not liking the way he stared at us.
Mama nodded. "Yes, I would like these things taken to Wylie's boarding house."
The baggage man had turned away and walked back to the train. The other passengers already had left the platform, and we were along with this man, Ben.
"It'll cost you a dollar," he said.
"All right," Mama said. Please be careful. We will walk on, if you will show us the way."
Ben spat on the platform, and Mama quickly stepped back. He pointed down the street. "You should ride on the wagon with me. It's that way and the other side of town. Won't cost no more, as I'm going that way."
So we rode on the wagon seat next to him, not knowing our first meeting with Ben Sutton would change our lives in the years to come.
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