Tessa McDermid - Family Stories (17 page)

She dropped beans into her bowl and tried to imagine G.G. as a young woman, dressed up, dancing shoes on her feet. What music was popular then? She grinned at the image of her great- grandparents dancing the night away, their arms around each other, their faces alight with laughter and the love she so often saw. It was there, in the way they looked at each other, the way they smiled.

Her bowl ful of fresh beans, she marched back to the house. They'd been parents, too, she thought. Raising three daughters after the loss of their son. Three very different daughters, each one adding to their story of love.

**********

Chapter 11

Lincoln, Iowa

1940-1945

Anne's first clear memories were of warning. Born June 24, 1931, she wasn't even a year old when the Lindbergh baby was kidnapped and found dead two months later. Her parents constantly reminded her not to talk to strangers. When she was six, she and a friend walked downtown to the Lincoln library and came back after dark. The spanking and scolding she received persuaded her to stay close to home and not cause her mother any further worry.

The summer months were different. In May, Frank would rent a smal cottage in northern Iowa, near Spirit Lake. The children enjoyed a bohemian life, running around barefoot, their limbs barely covered. Frank would travel to the nearby towns sel ing vacuum cleaners and accessories. On Sundays, they'd put on dresses and shoes and walk into town to worship at the smal community church. Once the cool weather of late August blew in, they'd pack up and return to Lincoln, in time for the start of school.

Most Saturday nights during the summer, Frank and Marian hired a babysitter for the girls and went out to dinner at one of the hotel restaurants. When Anne turned nine, Marian decided to dispense with the sitter, leaving almost six-year-old Margaret and three-and-a-half-year-old Alice in Anne's care.

That first time, Marian had said, "A sitter's a waste of money, Frank. Annie's a big girl now." Her mother's hand lightly brushed Anne's red curls. "You can take care of the girls, can't you, honey?"

"Yes."

Frank didn't look convinced. Alice clung to his leg, her thumb in her mouth. Margaret was nowhere to be seen, no doubt hidden away tel ing her dol a story.

"Marian, she's little more than a baby herself."

Anne drew herself up to her ful height. The tip of her pointed chin reached the middle of his chest. "I'm not a baby, I'm the tal est girl in my class. Anyway, what can happen to us? I'll lock al the doors and we'll play games and read. Don't worry. You and Mom have fun."

He opened his mouth to argue, then snapped it closed. A few minutes later, the front door shut behind them.

Anne played with Alice until the little girl whimpered and rubbed her eyes. Rocking her to sleep, she crooned several of the songs she'd heard her mother sing.

Alice's little hand curved around her finger, and Anne felt a tug of love. Alice nuzzled her soft head against Anne's chest. "I won't ever let anything hurt you," she murmured into Alice's baby-fine curls.

"What did you say to her?" Margaret's piping voice came into the room.

"Shh, she's final y asleep." Anne careful y tucked Alice into bed, then tiptoed out of the room, dragging Margaret along with her.

"What did you say?" Margaret demanded when they were safely out of range.

Anne felt funny confessing the strange wave of protective desire that had swept over her. "That I'll take care of her," she final y muttered.

"Wil you take care of me, too?"

Anne knelt down and clasped Margaret to her chest. "Of course, Margaret. We're sisters, aren't we?"

After that first babysitting experience, her mother trusted the girls to stay at the cottage when she went to her book club or a church committee meeting. When she began spending nights out while Frank was away, Anne felt the same overwhelming urge to protect her mother that she'd felt with Alice. Her mother didn't ask her to keep the news to herself but a long-forgotten memory surfaced one afternoon. Anne couldn't risk causing another separation between Frank and Marian.

She'd been little and Alice hadn't been born yet. Her father had stormed into the house, shouting for Marian at the top of his lungs. Margaret and Anne had cowered together in the bedroom, their arms around each other, listening while Frank bel owed and Marian wept. When Frank had slammed out of the house, Marian had rushed into the bedroom, tossing clothes into a suitcase.

They'd ridden the train to Winston and slept at her grandparents' house. Frank had arrived the next day, demanding Marian go back with him. She'd refused. Grandpa Cooper had taken them both into the front parlor. Anne and Margaret sat on stools in the kitchen, watching their grandmother knead bread, al of them trying not to listen to the loud voices from down the hal .

When the voices were silent, Margaret had crawled off her stool and leaned against her grandmother's leg.

Anne had rol ed a sticky piece of dough over and over on the counter, not stopping even when her parents came into the room. Her breath stuck in her throat. Marian had streaks of tears on her cheeks and Frank's face was flushed but they were holding hands. They'd gone back to Lincoln as a family.

Near the end of her ninth summer, she lay in the hammock reading, trying to use the last of the evening light before she went inside. Margaret and Alice talked quietly in their bedroom, their thin voices blending with the cicadas and rustling leaves of the trees. Her mother had gone to town earlier and Frank wasn't due back until the next day.

A shadow passed over her book. Annoyed, she marked her place. She'd spent the day with her sisters or doing chores. The girls were supposed to be in bed, and she wanted to enjoy a few minutes by herself.

Besides, if Mom came home and found them stil awake...

She saw the grim face of her father; her eyes widened. "Where's your mother, Anne?" he asked.

Anne slipped off the hammock, her book fal ing to the ground. "She—she went into town."

He turned and marched toward his car. Halfway there, he stopped, pinning her with the stare that wouldn't let her he. "Does she do this often?"

She bit her hp and closed her eyes as she nodded. She didn't open them until she heard his car roar down the road.

Sleep eluded her. She huddled under the covers, suddenly chil ed by the slight breeze rustling her curtains.

She didn't know how long she lay like that before she heard a car stop in the driveway. A car door slammed shut and she waited for the second one. But there was only silence and then the screen door squeaked.

Sliding from her bed, she cracked open her door and peered out. Her father was stretched out on the davenport, his hat covering his eyes. He seemed more tired than angry.

"You might as well come out," he said quietly.

Anne jumped and closed the door. She scampered across the wooden floor and dove into her bed and under the covers. When the bedroom door opened, she peered out, half-afraid at the sight of her father silhouetted by the living-room lamp.

"Anne, do you know where your mother goes in town?"

She shook her head, unable to talk. She loved her father and had never felt afraid of him, but she couldn't stand to see him hurt. And no matter what she said, she knew he would be hurt. Certainly disappointed...

At least she was being truthful. Once she'd asked her mother, using her new role as sitter. "I need a number in case there's an emergency."

Her mother had finished putting on her hat. "You won't have an emergency, Annie, dear," she said. "That's why I can trust you to watch your sisters. Now, give me a kiss and be a good girl."

Now she felt torn. She wasn't sure where her mother was but she had a good idea. Her mother always came home humming dance tunes. Only two places provided dancing in the smal town near the lake, and both were at the end of the lake. Somehow, she didn't think her father would like to find out that her mom was going to bars by herself.

She was saved from having to answer by her mother's return. At the sound of the front door closing, her father gave her a distracted kiss and left the room without another word. Anne tiptoed to her door, closing it tight. She got back into bed and pul ed the covers completely over her, squeezing her eyes shut.

Sunlight streamed between the open curtains the next morning. Anne peeked out of the window but her father's car was gone. When Margaret and Alice came into her room, she quietly took them into the kitchen and fixed breakfast. She shooed them outside, promising to play with them later if they'd stay away from the house. "Mommy needs to rest," she told them.

Frank didn't come home that night Alice slept in their mother's room while Anne and Margaret shared a bed.

The next day, no one mentioned Frank's arrival and quick departure. Margaret and Anne stayed outside al day, taking a smal lunch. They shared a quiet supper with Alice and their mother, Alice chattering to Marian in baby talk and Marian responding in kind. As soon as the table was cleared, Anne and Margaret went into her room, reading and whispering quietly until they fel asleep.

Frank stil wasn't back on Sunday. Alice had the sniffles, and their mother decided to keep her home from church, so the two older sisters walked to town together.

Tuesday evening, Margaret and Anne were jumping rope when Frank parked in front of the house. Margaret released her rope and ran to him, flinging her arms around him with a shout. Anne stood nearby, suddenly shy.

He hugged Margaret, then reached out, tugging Anne next to him. "So, how are my two girls?"

They walked toward the house, Margaret chattering about how she could skip a rock three times. Frank's eyes met Anne's, and she turned away, unable to talk to him as if he'd just returned from one of his sales trips.

Marian sat on the davenport, Alice in her arms. In the past few days, Alice had reverted to baby talk and her thumb was seldom out of her mouth. Framed as they were by the window and the soft afternoon light streaming in, they looked like a picture Anne had once seen of Mary and Baby Jesus.

"Hel o, Marian," Frank said.

Marian tightened her arms around Alice. Anne wanted to run to her room but her feet felt weighted down with cement. On her father's other side, Margaret's voice faded away.

"Been hearing some unsettling news," Frank continued. "Seems that the war in Europe may affect us after, al ."

Marian tossed her head. "Oh, Frank, we won't get involved in any war over there. Why should we?"

Frank shrugged, the action dragging Anne's hand up with his. "Just tel ing you what people are saying. I didn't think you'd heard any news recently."

Her mother's laugh was brittle. "How could I? I don't go anywhere and I don't see anyone."

Frank glanced down at Anne and she gave a tiny nod. Her mother hadn't left the house since that last disastrous trip into town. She hadn't even gone to her book club, one of her favorite summer activities.

Marian jumped to her feet, almost letting Alice fal . "What a pretty pass to come to, Frank Robertson, when you have our daughters spy on me! Why are you back, anyway?"

Anne could hear the tears under her mother's anger. Frank hurried across the room. "Honey, I had to come back. I can't live without you, you know that."

Marian sniffed, brushing a hand over her cheek. Alice wriggled out of her arms and tottered over to Margaret and Anne.

Frank hugged Marian's shoulders, bringing his head close to hers. Anne led her sisters down the hal and into her bedroom.

They climbed on the bed, listening to the soft rise and fal of their parents' voices. "Is it okay now?" Margaret asked.

Anne nodded, reassured by the steady tone of the voices in the other room, an occasional chuckle from her father. "I suppose it's one of those things married people do."

"I'm never going to fight with my husband," Margaret declared.

Anne laughed. "Oh, Margaret, you're too young to think about a husband." I won't have one, she vowed silently. They're too much work. She didn't fault her mother for wanting fun and some adult company, what with her father gone al the time.

Margaret bristled at her response. "I will, Annie. Al girls get married."

Anne patted her shoulder, soothing the ruffled feelings as she often had in the past. "Don't decide yet, Margaret. You're only six."

Alice cuddled against them, her eyelids drooping in sleep. Tucking her under the covers, Margaret and Anne lay down in their clothes, their little sister between them.

They left the lake early that year and didn't come back the next summer. Before they could return, Frank's words came true. The United States did go to war and Frank joined the United States Navy.

*****

Spring 1943

"Frank, you don't have to go." Marian was peeling potatoes for their supper. "You have three children and a wife to support."

"Marian, we're at war. I have to go. If I hadn't enlisted in the navy, I would've been drafted. Who knows what branch I'd be in then? I report to Des Moines tomorrow for my physical."

He put his arms around her as the three girls watched with wide eyes. Anne's heart pounded. Her parents didn't argue much, but raised voices always made her shudder.

Anne stayed up with her mother the next night, waiting for Frank to come home. They chatted about school, the neighbors, the weather. Anything to keep away the silence that left them alone with their thoughts. Her mother final y dozed, one hand flung over the back of the davenport. The fire had died down and the room was cold. Anne unfolded the afghan and covered Marian. Then she added a log to the fire, poking it until flames again fil ed the fireplace. She curled under a corner of the blanket at the other end of the davenport and closed her eyes.

The soft gray light of dawn had filtered into the room when she opened her eyes. Her father sat on the floor, holding Marian's hand, her mother stil asleep.