A Confession Story – Part II of V – If you want to read this story, start at Day 19
I had expected the day to be as hot and flat as any other summer Tuesday. That morning Daddy went off to fix a railroad bridge way across the state. “I’m a lucky man,” he told me when I pouted over his long absence. “So many men are out of work. Be thankful I have a job.” But his job left just Mama and me in the house, with the days too long and lonely.
Mama changed the bed linens upstairs as I sat in the kitchen and ate leftover pancakes for lunch. I dragged each piece slowly through melted butter and Karo syrup that pooled in the center of my plate. I did everything as slow as I could each morning to put off my chores. I wanted to be outside, climbing the old hickory tree or reeling in blue catfish from the creek on Billy John Crawford’s farm.
As I popped the last bite of pancake into my mouth, someone knocked at the kitchen door. I wiped a dribble of syrup from my chin and opened the door to a strange boy that looked about eleven, like me, but with dirty red hair and even dirtier bare feet. He dressed like the people who come to our back door sometimes for food.
“Martha Baker live here?” He kept tossing a white envelope from one of his hands to the other.
“Who wants to know?” I said, putting my hands on my hips. I knew it was rude, that Mama would scold me if she heard, but sometimes I can’t help myself.
The boy shoved the envelope at me, then flashed a nickel and grinned. “Some man paid me to bring her this. She live here?” he asked again.
I nodded and took the envelope. “Thank you,” I said. His nickel had won my respect. I was about to ask how I could get such a job, but he turned and ran away.
I went to find Mama and saw her coming down the stairs. “What’s this?” I asked.
Mama leaned over the banister to take the envelope and glanced at her name on the front. “Nothing. Get along.” She turned her back as she opened the letter. After a moment, she said, “I have to get dressed and go into town. You finish your chores and stay out of trouble!” Mama ran down the rest of the steps and tucked the letter into her purse on the hall table. Then she hurried back up to her room.
When I heard her door close, I snuck a look in the purse for loose change. If Mama was going to town, I’d have enough time to walk to the general store and buy sour balls. I grabbed two pennies that had fallen to the corner of the bag. I wasn’t thinking about the letter, but there it was, out of the envelope, folded in half. It wouldn’t hurt to take a peek.
Dear Martha – I got to town this morning. Come as soon as you can, room 202. See you when my meeting is over. Bill Dobbins, Esq.
I’d never heard of Bill Dobbins and couldn’t think why Mama would want to meet him. I closed the purse and glanced up the stairs to make sure I hadn’t been seen. Mama hated nosiness and would get the switch after me for sure.
I washed breakfast and lunch dishes as I waited for Mama to leave. When she didn’t appear, I went upstairs and tapped on her door. She opened it with an aggravated look and continued to clip on shiny blue earrings as she asked me what I wanted.
“You’re beautiful!” I said, surprised to see her silky blue dress and shoes with high heels. Mama’s hair, usually a single braid twisted into a bun, now flowed about her shoulders. I tugged at my own black braids and wondered if I’d ever be as pretty as her.
“Thank you.” Mama checked the buttons that ran down the front of her dress, then looked at me. “Well, what is it?”
“I’m going to clean the stalls now,” I said.
“Fine.” Mama walked back to her mirror and opened a lipstick tube. With one twist of the bottom, a scarlet point sprang up. Mama smoothed it across her lips, then spoke to my reflection. “Wash yourself up good when you’re done. I’ll be back before it gets dark.”
I frowned at her back but kept quiet as I pulled the door closed behind me. Mama never puts on red lipstick when Daddy is around. He likes her face clean.
