Maude Brown's Baby (28 page)

Naomi got in. With the top down, there was plenty of room for her Sunday hat. She sat for a moment, adjusted her backside and declared, “The upholstery is nice, but the seat’s not very comfortable.” She got out again, clutching her small handbag
waist-high in front of her, waiting for the salesman to respond.

Clarence was beginning to like the car, but he knew that Naomi would make the final decision, whether she said it out loud or not. Lord
help us men, he thought, when women get the vote.

When the salesman appeared stumped, Naomi spoke again.

“Let me see the rear seat.”

The salesman opened the rear door and helped Naomi onto the running board. She hesitated, looked around, then stepped in and sat. Her gloved hand lingered over the padding, which extended
to each side for more comfort. There was plenty of leg room, and she really liked the wide metal bar on the rear of the front seat. It gave passengers something to grab onto when they climbed in back.

She gave the bar a solid tug.

“This is perfect for Cletus,” she declared.

Naomi
patted the seat. “Come see what you think.”

Clarence
climbed in beside his wife. Naomi squeezed his hand and smiled.

“We’ll take it,” he said.

“Excellent, sir. Will you take your car now or should I have it delivered?”

“Better d
eliver it,” Clarence said. “Neither one of us can drive.”              

“This was in our box, sir.” Donald handed a small card to the elderly gentleman behind the post office counter. Young Bentley, the previous clerk, had shipped out to France in the early spring. Bentley’s replacement
, well past retirement age, adjusted his spectacles down near the tip of his nose, tilted his head back and peered at the note in his hand.

“Mr. Brown? Yes, you received a package.”

A package? He wasn’t expecting anything from Sears or his photographic supplier in St. Louis. He was happy enough to find three letters in the postal box. Now a package. He fingered the envelopes. The first two were from the Army: one for Donald and one for the Stokes. The third was from Clara. He smiled, and a woman passing by smiled back.

“Here you go,” the clerk said a minute later.

“Thanks.”

Donald took the letters and package to a nearby table. The parcel, wrapped in brown paper and tied with twine, was also from Clara. It weighed well over a pound. He d
ecided to wait to open it.

Whatever was in C
lara’s package rattled a bit, Donald thought. Why send a letter and a separate parcel? Why not stick the letter in the box and save the two-cent postage?

Bosco acted happy
to see him, but ducked Donald’s hand in favor of the box. Whatever was inside, the dog was interested. He followed as far as the kitchen door, then whined at being left outside. Donald tossed the rest of the mail on the table and opened Clara’s letter first.

Tuesday, September 17, 1918

Galveston, Tex.

Dear Donald,

Thank you for your nice letter and lovely photograph. Since my nursing classes have resumed, I’m afraid that I have only time for a short response now, but I do have news to relay.

First, it cheered me to learn of your exciting prospect with the magazine! I know you must be happy. Even if military service interrupts your plans, it is good to know that someone as important as Leonard Hoffman is interested in your work
. Yes, I do know of his company. It published two of the textbooks we are using this year.

The news from here is that, after you left last Wednesday, I searched again through Mama’s collection of pictures. I was looking, of course, for any that might have been taken by the same person who photographed you as a baby
. I think I have found one.

The photograph was taken at the old Galveston wharf, as it looked before the
1900 storm. The style reminds me of the picture of the man (your father?) lifting a small child. The same person is holding that child in his arms (she looks younger), and both of them are looking down at a uniformed man seated at a desk.

The print is of excellent quality, with only slight water damage to the paper along the right side. I nearly overlooked it, because it is a bit smaller than the photographs taken in the room.
I chose not to enclose the new print in this letter for fear it would be lost in the mail. Please advise if you prefer that I send it to you.

Kind regards,

Clara Barnes

P.S.
—I packaged some cookies for you last night and mailed them separately on my way to class this morning.

Another photograph! Donald was reading Clara’s letter for the third time when he heard a car horn outside. Not Jake’s this time, something new.

He wasn’t prepared for the sight. Two motor cars had stopped near the back gate. The first was a shiny new Ford 2-passenger Model T. Its d
river remained at the wheel.

The second
Ford was an older model, shiny and black. The top was down. In the back seat, Naomi and Clarence sat like royalty. Their driver stepped from the car, walked around to Naomi’s door, opened it and offered her his hand.

Clarence, dressed in his best suit and tie and wearing his bowler hat, waved at he stepped from the running board.

“Hey, Donny, look here at our new automobile.”

“Don’t move! Let me get a camera!” Donald ran for the shed.

Bosco
stood with his paws atop of the fence, tongue out, wagging his tail. Clarence turned to his driver, thanked him, and watched as he climbed in next to the driver of the first car, which then pulled away. Even Naomi, who had no interest in machinery, looked pleased.

Donald returned with the largest of his Kodak folding cameras open and ready to use. He looked down into the viewfinder and began gesturing with his free hand.

“Step closer to me. That’s good. Pa, step a little closer, and turn so that your left shoulder is closer to me. Ma, you’re just fine. You look like the queen herself!”

Naomi laughed and Donald snapped the picture.

“Now, Pa, put your right hand on the door, like you were opening it for Ma.”

Click.

“Yeah, go ahead and open it a bit. That’s good.”

Click.

“Now look at Ma like she was your lady friend.”

“She is!” Clarence called back as Donald clicked again.

The three of them were laughing still when Donald held the screen door open for Naomi and Clarence. Naomi saw the letters first.

“What’s that on the table?”

“We got mail. I was just reading a letter from my friend in Galveston.”

“You can say her name, son,” Naomi said as she opened an unmarked letter addressed to Mr. and Mrs. Stokes.

“Did Clara send them cookies too?” Clarence said, reaching for the box.

“Yeah
. Try one, they’re good.”

“This is about Cletus,” Naomi said, holding a short typewr
itten note on Red Cross stationery. Donald and Clarence stood silent as she read aloud.

Am. Nat. Red Cross Service Center

New York, N
.Y.

September 14, 1918

Dear Mr. and Mrs. Stokes,

I am writing again to let you know that your son
, Cletus, left New York September 11 on a U.S. Navy medical transport scheduled to arrive at the Port of Galveston on Sunday, September 22. All troops will be seen by doctors from John Sealy Hospital and either admitted, cleared for further transport, or released to family members. Please forgive the brevity of this note. We have so many to write and there are too few available aides. Cletus sends his love.

Cordially yours,

Willa M. Grimes,

Assist. Transport Document Coordinator

“Sunday!” Naomi said, dropping her hand and the letter to her side. “Cletus will be home in three days!” She put her hand to her mouth and walked quickly down the hall, taking the letter with her. Donald and Clarence heard the bedroom door close.

“What’s wrong with Ma?” Donald said. “That sounded like good news to me.”
             

“Things can rattle her
at first,” Clarence said. “She just needs time to think. By this evening she’ll be herself, barkin’ orders to you and me like a drill sergeant.”

“You got the car just in time.”

“Yep. All I got to do now is learn to drive it.”

“I can help, Pa. Jake taught me last year. It’s not that hard.”

Clarence poured himself a glass of milk as he considered the offer.

“Mind if I have another of your lady friend’s cookies?”

“She’s not my lady friend, just someone I met in Galveston.”

“That’s not what I hear.”

Before Donald could protest, Clarence saw the second envelope on the table. He pointed with his cookie hand.

“That your notice to take the physical?”

“September 30, 9:00 a.m.” Donald answered. “I’m surprised it’s not sooner.”

“What happens next, assuming you pass?”

“If they want me, I suppose I’d get orders to go to Logan. Elton reports next week, but he’s hoping for a few more days to recover from his injuries. Could be that Elton and Jake and I are there at the same time.”

“I thought Jake
had a deferment on account of him bein’ sole support of his sick parents.”

“He
says they’re better now. Anyway, Jake cleared it with the draft board, and he certainly won’t have trouble passing the physical.”

Clarence shook his head. “I told your ma that boy wasn’t a slacker, no matter what folks say.”

It was dark enough to turn on the electric lights in the house, and Naomi still hadn’t left her room. Clarence and Donald both knew better than to disturb her about supper. They decided to forage on their own.

“Let’s see, we got cheese and milk here in the icebox, Donny, what did you find?”

“Cornbread from yesterday and a box of soda crackers. Do you see any jelly in there?”

Clarence clinked the bottles
of milk aside to reach the back of the icebox. “Yep, there’s some strawberry jam and butter, and a jar of leftover beans.”

“And we’ve got these cookies, Pa.” Donald set the
cornbread and a tin of Nabisco crackers on the table next to Clara’s package.

“Then I reckon we ain’t goin’ to starve right away,” Clarence said as he added the butter, jam, cheese and milk to the table.

“Nobody’s going to starve in my kitchen,” Naomi called from the hallway. You just leave those things on the table and come back in twenty minutes.” She reached for her apron, which popped loudly when she flapped it in front of her. “Now, scoot! Leave me to work!”

Clarence stopped
when the telephone rang, a forkful of scrambled eggs and red beans halfway to his mouth. Naomi’s tea cup clinked in the saucer. Since the news about Cletus, every call made her jump.

“I’ll get it,” Donald said, heading down the hall.

“Hello? Yes, this is the Stokes’ residence.” Donald covered the mouthpiece of the wall-moun
ted telephone and called back to the kitchen from the hall.

“Long distance.”

Clarence reached for Naomi’s hand.

“Yes. No. Yes. Thank you.” Donald covered the mouthpiece again.

“The operator is connecting now.” Naomi squeezed her eyes shut.

“Hello? Oh! Hi! Just a second.” Again, Donald’s hand went to the mouthpiece, but he still held
the receiver to his ear. “Clara is calling from Galveston.”

Naomi breathed in relief, then her back stiffened as she said to Clarence under her breath, “That’s not right, a young woman calling a man on the telephone, especially at this hour. And long distance, too!”

Clarence looked down at his pocket watch. “Eight thirty-five. At least she waited ‘til the rate went down.”

Donald put his hand over his right ear and pressed the receiver to his left.
“Please say that again.”

Clara’s voice in the earpiece was tinny and strained, as if she were speaking to him through a long metal pipe.

“Donald, can you come to Galveston Saturday? It’s important.”

“Of course, Clara. I just need to help my folks on Sunday. Cletus is arriving on a Navy transport.”

“Oh, it’s good to hear that! Donald, I’ll be at the wharf myself. The student nurses are helping the hospital staff. Anything I can do to assist your family …”

The line crackled and Donald found himself looping the receiver cord over his
knuckles like a length of rope. He raised his voice, although it probably didn’t help.