No Crystal Stair (8 page)

As she stood, she saw the headlights of an approaching car coming around the bend. She caught her breath as it slowed and stopped.

Dear God... not the police. Please. Surely they couldn't be doing anything wrong—just changing a tire. Were they parked where they shouldn't be? She heard the car door slam and peered anxiously around the tree. Not the police. But he was white. Tall and skinny with stringy blond hair. Worse than the police. A man with nothing to flaunt but his white skin could be the most vicious of bigots.

“What y‘all doin', boys?” he asked in the familiar cracker drawl.

“Got a flat.”That was Randy. “I think we picked up a nail.”

Sir
,
Randy
, say
sir
, Ann Elizabeth silently pleaded, her hand pressed against her mouth.

“Can't do nothin' with that little ol' wrench.” The man spat out a huge wad of tobacco. “Ain't you got a lug wrench? That's what you need.”

“'Fraid not.” Randy grunted as he strained. “Damn! Can't move it.”

“Here. I got a lug wrench. Just wait a minute. Y‘all can't do nothin' with that.”

Ann Elizabeth leaned against the tree, weak with relief. There was no trouble. He had stopped to help. Emerging from the shrubbery, she saw the white man shake his head in disgust. “Ain't you never used a lug wrench boy? Move. Lemme have it,” he said as he pushed Randy aside and got down to work.

Ann Elizabeth, recklessly wiping her feet with one of the new gift towels, listened to the laughter and the jokes as together the men speedily changed the tire. On impulse she rummaged in the back for the large portion of wedding cake her mother had packed, then wrapped a generous slice in a napkin.

“Shucks!” The man shrugged off their thanks. “T'weren't nothin'.” But he grinned broadly, cleaning his hands on his
overalls before he took the cake. “Well, now, that's right nice of you.”

“It was kind of you to help,” she said, glad he would never know the cake was more apology than thanks. Never again, she thought as he drove away, would she judge a man by his drawl or his color or his poverty.

The three-hour trip had now turned into five, but Randy said they'd have to stop in Notasulga to get the tire repaired. He didn't plan to travel without a spare. It was quite dark now, and the air was muggy after the storm. Ann Elizabeth's skin felt clammy, and she was tired and hungry. While they waited at the gas station for the flat to be fixed, she stared at the lighted diner across the street. It looked clean and cozy.

Pete voiced her thoughts. “Damn! I sure could go for a sandwich and a cold drink.”

“Well, just run across the street and get it,” Rob said. “What was that you said in church about you white folks?”

“Trouble is,” Pete answered. “My nappy hair just might give my away. And you know what they call a yellow colored boy in Alabama.”

“What?” Ann Elizabeth asked.

“Nigger!”

They all laughed and Pete suggested Randy might do the honors since he had the highest rank. Surely they wouldn't refuse a first lieutenant of the United States Army who just wanted to carry out a few sandwiches and—

Randy snorted. “You know what they call a colored general in Alabama? That is, if there ever was one...”

“Nigger!” they chorused, bursting with laughter.

“Honey?” Rob looked down at her. “Are you hungry? The might let us carry something out. I'll go over and see.”

“Oh no! No.” Ann Elizabeth's voice was a little shrill as she placed a restraining hand on Rob's knee.
Never force your man into a battle he can't win.
She reached for the box of wedding
cake. “Who needs bread when we have cake? Awfully expensive cake, too. You wouldn't believe what Mother paid for it.” She talked rapidly. “Randy, why don't you buy some cokes and—”

“Sure crowded over there,” Pete interrupted. “Who are all those men lining up outside?”

“And all dressed alike.” Randy observed.

“Well, I'll be damned!” Rob's voice was a whisper.

“What?”

“Don't you see that PW on their backs? They're prisoners of war.”

“Hey!”Pete jerked his head and stared. “The enemy! I thought we'd have to go all the way to Germany to see them.”

“Is there a prison camp near here?” Ann Elizabeth asked.

“Nope.” Rob rubbed his chin with the back of his hand. “They're probably, on their way to a camp. Just passing through and stopped to eat.”

“Eat!” Pete sat up. “Ain't that some shit! They're serving German prisoners and we ...”

“Well,” Randy drawled, “don't you know what they call a German prisoner in Alabama?”

“A white man.”

“You got it. Letting you fight him don't give you the right to set down and eat with him, boy! Don't let them bars on your shoulder get you in trouble!” Randy, with his exaggerated accent, was in excellent stride.

Ann Elizabeth laughed with the others. It was so crazy it was funny, even when you were wet and cold and on the butt end of the joke.

I
t was after midnight when they reached Tuskegee and drove straight to Mrs. Anderson's, where Rob had procured a room for himself and his bride. Apartments on the base—for military and civilian workers—were still in the planning stage. By the time they were ready, Rob knew he'd be overseas. He didn't mention this to Ann Elizabeth. He simply told her they'd be in good company. “Practically every married couple is renting a room from the colored homeowners at Tuskegee Institute, which is right beside the town of Tuskegee. It's one hundred-percent colored, and it houses the college. Even has its own postmark. It's completely distinct from Tuskegee itself, which is predominately white.”

“I know.” She'd smiled and he realized he'd been talking too much. “I've been there, Rob. Not recently, but several years ago with Dad. Some kind of medical meeting at the Veteran's Hospital.”

“Oh.” Of course she'd know. Tuskegee wasn't that far from Atlanta. But he still felt anxious. “Mrs. Anderson's a widow and works at the college. She'll be away during the day and you'll have the house to yourself. Anyway, she's very nice. It won't be too bad—living with her, I mean.”

“I'll love it,” she said. “You'll be there.” She stood on tip-toes to give him a kiss that was almost reassuring.

But now, when they stopped in front of Mrs. Anderson's little house, the anxiety returned. How would Ann Elizabeth like
sharing a bath, cooking in someone else's kitchen, with separate cabinet and refrigerator space apportioned to her?

After the men unloaded the luggage, Randy and Pete drove off. Rob lifted Ann Elizabeth over the threshold into the house. He kicked the door shut and felt some apprehension as he surveyed the living room for the first time through Ann Elizabeth's eyes. Too small for the overstuffed blue sofa and the two matching chairs, the shadow boxes on the wall, the clutter of mementos. So different from the spacious elegance she had left. Had he been wrong to bring her here?

“Welcome home, Mrs. Metcalf,” he said through dry lips.

She slid to the floor and looked around. He held his breath.

“This is ... nice,” he heard her say. “So cozy and clean, and look, Rob! A gift.” She pointed to the gaily wrapped package on the coffee table. “For us,” she said, taking from it the attached envelope. “See? ‘To Lt. and Mrs. Robert Metcalf.' Lt. and Mrs. Robert Metcalf,” she repeated, turning to him with shining eyes. “I like the sound of that.” She carefully unwrapped the package, revealing three fluffy white guest towels, a quilted red rose embossed on each. “Oh, Rob... It's such a beautiful and symbolic gift, don't you think?”

“Huh?”

“Guest towels for our mutual bathroom. Like she's saying we're welcome to share her home.”

He nodded and smiled as he watched her open the envelope.

‘“This house is yours for tonight,'” she read. “‘Have a happy beginning. Love, Mamie Anderson.'” Ann Elizabeth glanced up.

“Wasn't that thoughtful of her!” she exclaimed. “I like her already. I can tell she's a very perceptive, very sweet person.”

“You're sweet,” he said, taking her in his arms. Everything was going to be all right.

As Rob approached their bedroom door, the delicate spicy sweet aroma he'd come to associate with Ann Elizabeth permeated the air. His pulse quickened and his hand tightened on the champagne bottle.

He paused in the doorway to gaze at his bride.

The light from the shaded lamp cast a soft glow on Ann Elizabeth. She wore a white silk negligee and looked so fresh and pretty that his heart leapt with desire. Her face was flushed, her hair damp and curling from the steamy bath. One hand timidly touched the ruffled lace collar of her robe. The ruffle stirred slightly in the breeze.

Breeze? There was no breeze.

It was Ann Elizabeth trembling. She was looking not at him but at the bed. Her eyes were wide and frightened.

Quietly he withdrew.

When he returned, she was sitting on the edge of the bed, stiffly and primly, like a child. She turned to smile up at him.

He set the tray with two steaming mugs of hot chocolate on the bedside table.

“You had a long day,” he said, and kissed her lightly on the lips. “I brought you a nightcap.”

“How nice! Thank you Rob.” She sounded polite. Distant.

He sat in the big chair across from her and regarded her thoughtfully as he sipped his chocolate. She clutched her mug with both hands, holding on for dear life.

“This is so good. How did you know this is just what I wanted? We used to make hot cocoa in the dorm. I remember before my graduation—it was a surprise party...” She spoke rapidly as she always did when she was nervous. As she had done tonight, making sure he wouldn't attempt to go into that diner. Trying to distract them.

How I love her.
He stood up, took the empty mug from her and placed it on the tray with his. Then he turned and pulled her to her feet. One feathered slipper fell from her foot as he
lifted her. Returning to his chair, he cradled her in his lap and kissed the top of her head.

“Tell me about it.”

“About what?” Her voice was a small whisper against his chest.

“About the surprise party,” he said, trying to quell the passion rising within him at the feel of her firm body under the thin silk.

“Oh,” She sounded relieved. “It was Doris, Millie, and Jennie Lou. And Etta May. They surprised me. I'd been in this play.”

“Oh?”

“About this silly woman who wanted to stay young forever. It was nice, though.”

“The play?”

“No. The surprise party. I was feeling kind of sad that night.”

“Why”

“I don't know exactly. I told Dan—”

“My competition.”

“Oh no!” she said quickly, and looked earnestly at him. “It was never Dan.” She hesitated. “He was my friend... is my friend. But I love you.”

He found himself wondering how Dan would have handled this night.

“Go on,” he prompted. “You told Dan . . .”

“Well... that it felt like something was ending.”

“And like the lady in the play, you wanted things to stay as they were forever?”

She laughed. “Funny. That's exactly what Dan asked. I told him it was more like everything was ending and nothing was beginning. And then...” She fingered a button on his pajama jacket. “Then I met you.”

He could hardly restrain himself. To ease the tension he began to croon the lovely and romantic lyrics of “Blue Moon.” Then he said softly, “You are my dream, Ann Elizabeth. You are my love.”

She straightened his collar, and the touch of her fingers against his neck sent a wave of excitement through him.

“You have a beautiful voice, Rob. And I love that song. Sing it all,” she urged, settling herself in his lap.

He swallowed hard and began again. “Blue moon, you saw me . . .”

He finished the last stanza and looked down at her. Her eyes were closed and her breath came softly, regularly. He watched her for a long time. Then resignedly, he untied the robe and let it slip to the floor. His breath caught as he gazed at the delicate curves of her slender body revealed so tantalizingly in the sheer low-cut negligee.

All the youthful energy of his twenty-two years welled up, combining with the love and desire, gripping him in an almost uncontrollable passion. He caressed one small breast through the silk. She stirred, trying to find a more comfortable resting place on his shoulder. He sighed heavily. Hopelessly. Then lifted her and tucked her tenderly into bed.

He frowned at his pajamas, stiff in their newness. Brought especially for tonight.

Hell, she was asleep. He might was well be comfortable. He shed the offending pajamas, switched off the light and climbed into bed beside his sleeping bride.

 

 

Ann Elizabeth stirred in her sleep, moving closer to the warmth. Basking in the rare peace and comfort, she almost drifted into sleep again. Then, startled by a movement beside her, she was instantly awake.

Rob!

It struck like a bolt of lighting. She'd fallen asleep on their wedding night! What must he think of her?

Stealthily she looked at the face on the pillow beside her. She had never noticed how long his lashes were. But then she'd
never before seen him asleep. The chiseled features, the full lips, seemed even more handsome in repose. She reached out to touch his face, then drew back, consumed by guilt. She had not meant it to be like this.

She lay back and stared at the stiff white unfamiliar curtains, the soft rosy light of early dawn that filtered through the window. Her wedding night, and she'd fallen asleep! She tried to remember how it had happened . . . He'd held her on his lap. She'd felt secure, nestled in his arms. She'd asked him to sing, and he had. And then she'd drifted off.

How could she! Vividly she recalled her father's words, words that had surprised and impressed her that night only a few weeks before her wedding. He'd sat on the glider beside her, touched her cheek.

“Ann Elizabeth, your education in some areas has been sadly neglected.”

Puzzled, she'd asked what he meant.

He smiled. “Do you know the attributes of a perfect wife?”

She guessed she hadn't thought about it.

“Well, a perfect wife, my darling, is a lady in the parlor, a cook in the kitchen and a whore in the bedroom.”

“Oh, Dad.” She felt the hot color rush to her cheeks.

“And I think the last is ten times more important than the first two.”

“Oh, Dad.”That was all she could think to say.

“An old adage, kitten. It's trite but true. I think a husband will forgive anything—dirty house, dirty dishes, burnt roast—if he's happy in bed.”

Ann Elizabeth had thought of her mother. The perfect lady. Was she... ? She almost missed her father's next words.

Not that if mattered much, she thought now, a little crossly. He had given no instructions. Just advice and warnings.

“Don't believe that old saying about the way to a man's heart being through his stomach. Most marriages are made or broken in bed. Work on pleasing your husband there.”

“How?”

On this he'd been vague. “As natural as breathing. If you really love Rob...”

She knew she loved Rob. And yes, in that way. His kisses thrilled her as no one else's ever had. But she felt so unsure. Afraid of not pleasing him. Was that why she'd gone to sleep? When she had planned to be so warm, so loving. She closed her eyes and the tears rolled down her cheeks.

“Darling!” Rob's voice startled her. “What is it? Why are you crying?”

Numbly she shook her head.

“Ann Elizabeth, tell me. What's troubling you?”

She wiped her face with her fist. “I'm so ... so ...” She choked. Stupid. “I don't know how.”

“How?”

“How to be a whore.”

“A
whore?
But, sweetheart, you're not! You could never be—”

“But I want to!” She was vehement. Angry.

“But...” Rob stared at her, not comprehending.

Haltingly, in jerky sentences, she told him what her father had said. “I didn't mean to go to sleep, Rob. I meant to be ... like he said. I just don't know how. I...”

But Rob had flopped back on his pillow. His head rocked form side to side as he laughed uproariously.

“It's not funny!”

He couldn't seem to contain the laughter.

“Don't,” she pleaded. “I'm sorry. I wanted to please you and I was afraid I couldn't. That's why I went to sleep.”

He sat up then, but the laughter remained in his eyes. “Darling, you went to sleep because you were tired. You had a long hard day and I expect the chocolate contributed.”

She shook her head. “No, I was afraid I couldn't...”

“I thought you were afraid of me.”

She turned to him quickly. “Afraid of you? Never! I love you. I just don't know...”

“How to be a whore?” He took her in his arms, whispered against her ear, “Oh, my darling, let me teach you.”

 

 

Much later Ann Elizabeth looked at Rob lying with one arm around her, his eyes closed.

Dear God, she hadn't known what love was. Until now. Never had she felt so fulfilled, so completely his. It was wonderful!

A thought struck her. Had it been so for him? Or had she been too eager, too grasping? She felt herself blush. She hadn't been able to resist touching him. Even now. With her forefinger she reached up, tracing the line of his jaw to his full lower lip.

Rob ducked his head, caught her finger between his teeth. “Gotcha!”

“Rob, I thought you were asleep.”

“I would be if you could keep your hands off me!”

“Oh, Rob, am I too... Did I ... ?”

“Loved it!” He grinned. “Ann Elizabeth, can you cook?”

“Cook? Of course I can cook. I've been cooking since I was ten.”

“Then relax, honey. You've made the grade.”

“Grade?”

“Perfect wife.”