Spoiled, part two

Because she didn’t have much choice, Julia took her six-year-old daughter Leta with her on the several errands she had planned for the day. Initially, she had hoped to play the child’s vanity against her greed by dressing her up in her Sunday best, but by the conclusion of the second stop—to deliver one of the dresses that Julia had hemmed and adjusted for a local farmer’s widow—the two vices had joined forces against her. Their final stop was the market, where the grocer had placed several jars of candy at the counter.

Leta saw the candy and immediately wanted a piece. Julia knelt to look the child in the eye and refused as gently and firmly as she could.

Leta’s eyes welled up with tears. She looked so pretty she deserved one, she thought, everyone said so, and it was cruel of her mother to refuse.

“I want a candy!” she demanded.

“No,” Julia said with equal harshness. “We don’t have money for that.”

Several folks had politely turned away, but Julia still felt as though she was considered a cruel and unjust parent for so pretty a little girl.

“But I have my own money,” Leta offered, showing her mother a penny she was holding in the small pocket of her dress.

“Where did you get that?” Julia demanded.

“That nice lady gave it to me, the purple dress lady,” Leta answered in a choking voice. “Can’t I get a candy now?”

“You’re going to return that penny is what you’re going to do,” Julia said decisively. “I don’t know if you asked for it or she gave it to you, but you’re not keeping it.”

“But it’s mine,” Leta whined. “She gave it to me.”

“Not another word,” Julia answered crisply and stood. “We’re going to finish our shopping and leave.” She grabbed Leta firmly by the wrist and started toward the counter.

“I WANT A CANDY!” Leta yelled, breaking free of her mother. She ran to another part of the shop and began to repeat her demand at the top of her voice.

Julia watched her daughter in terror before making an attempt to take charge of the situation. She put her basket on the counter and stomped firmly over to her wailing child. But Leta would not be caught, she dodged her mother and ran around a shelf, still screaming at the top of her lungs how she had her own money and wanted a candy. Nearly in tears herself at this unacceptable and astonishing display, Julia began to chase her child. Truly, the mother had no idea what to do. None of her older children had ever acted in such a way.

“Leta,” she called firmly. “You come here right now.”

“No!” her daughter cried, while pulling at her hair and dress. “I want a candy!”

Julia had chased the little girl around the shelving three times with Leta adjusting her own trajectory as Julia attempted to outsmart her. However, the mother was beginning to prevail, so the child made a last effort to escape out the door, running headlong into the legs of a man.

“Here now,” the man said. “What is this?”

Both mother and daughter were tear-stained, exhausted and panting.

The man lifted the little girl to his face.

“Doll-baby?” he asked. “Is that you?”

Julia wiped her eyes with her handkerchief. She couldn’t believe it. Meanwhile, Leta sniffed and tried to recognize the face, the voice, the touch.

“Aaron?” Julia questioned. “Is that you?”

Her older son looked directly at her. “Yes, Mother, it’s me.”

While she had no words, Leta impulsively threw her arms around her big brother and sobbed in relief and joy. She forgot about her tantrum, the penny, even the candy. She only understood that her life was going to become good again. This man whose name was Aaron, whom she would later be told was her beloved brother, had returned after being gone for several years to take care of her. All of the hurt and turmoil of the past few years had suddenly concluded.

Spoiled, part one

One afternoon, with Louise and Nellie both unavailable to stay with their younger sister, Julia reluctantly took her six-year-old daughter Leta with her to return two dresses she had adjusted to their owners and to the market. She dressed her daughter in her prettiest clothes, even taking the time to curl the child’s hair. The effort was to pit the child’s vanity against her greed. While dressing the girl and flattering her as much as any mother with sense could, Julia laid down Leta’s share in the activity. If she kept herself tidy and quiet throughout their afternoon of errands, she would have a special treat when she got home. Leta agreed with eagerness, dutifully took her mother’s hand, and the duo walked to their first destination.

What Julia hadn’t bargained on was that Leta truly was striking and both of the women they visited fawned all over her. What a beautiful little girl. Such a pretty dress. Look at how lovely your hair is curled. Such beautiful blue eyes. And on the women went. The second, a rather wealthy widow, went so far as to give her a penny, just for being so pretty and well-behaved. Julia was busy with the dress and failed to notice the flash of excitement that flared in her daughter’s eyes. The mother also failed to realize how her daughter watched the cash pass from the women to her mother as payment for the work.

Julia actually was relieved that Leta remained so well-behaved throughout the afternoon, whatever the reason. She had a cookie at the first house and a glass of lemonade at the second, which satisfied her sweet tooth, or so Julia thought. And this certainty distracted Julia from her own stern composure and original intention to quickly pick up her market needs and get home. While walking down the street to the market, several other neighbors noted to Leta how beautiful she looked. The girl politely voiced her thanks, which resulted in one of the women squealing with delight. “What a lovely doll baby!” the woman screeched.

They were only in the shop three minutes when the dreaded request came from Leta’s very confident voice: “Mama, can I have a candy?”

At that moment, Julia hated that the shopkeepers kept the candy right in the front, where any and every child could see it.

Julia set her basket down and squatted to meet her daughter’s eyes.

“Now, Leta,” Julia said firmly but gently, holding her daughter’s upper arms, “we talked about this before we left home, remember? You can have a treat when you get home, if you behave. But I’m not going to buy any candy today.”

“But I’m hungry,” Leta said.

“I know you’re not hungry,” Julia corrected. “You just had a cookie and lemonade.”

“But I want a candy,” Leta whined, her voice growing in volume and frustration.

“Remember what I said. Behave or no treat at home,” Julia repeated with growing anger. “You are not getting a candy. “

To be continued.

Reunited, part two

Leta and her sister Mabel had not seen each other in nearly 40 years. When she left her family and moved West, Mabel was still a girl of fifteen and Leta wasn’t even four years old. Now they were grown women, and both were grandmothers.

Even though Leta had participated in correspondence with her over the years, she did not know what to expect. After all, she had always felt that Mabel had deserted her, and even though she was a grown woman, she continued to struggle with the feeling that her older sister didn’t care about her.

Then Mabel was there, in Leta and her husband Bob’s living room. The sisters looked at each other. Mabel was shorter than Leta remembered, and heavier and matronly. She had a pale, round face and silver hair. She had the tight, small lips of her siblings, but her eyes were smaller and her nose was round and hooked, whereas all of her brothers and sisters had flatter, wider ones. The differences of their features increased Leta’s feelings of separation. She did not know who this woman was, and began to develop the uncomfortable idea that there was no reason for them to be together. While she did not move, a growing sense of panic began to infect her. She felt the heat grow inside her from her stomach to her extremities. But before she could do or say anything, she heard a familiar and loving voice.

“Doll-baby.”

In an instant, Leta was once again the little girl who would crawl out from under the bed to greet the sweet smile and open arms of an older girl who would put her in her lap and read stories from the Bible to her.

The long-lost sisters smiled, stepped forward simultaneously and grasped hands. It was as if the entire room exhaled, releasing forty years of tension and regret in an instant.

“Look at you,” Leta smiled.

“Look at me? Look at you!” Mabel returned.

“I’m not your little doll-baby any more,” Leta responded. “I am a grown woman with two children and a grandchild.”

“Me, too,” Mabel noted, “only I have several grandchildren.”

“Great-grandchildren?” Leta inquired.

“Not yet. I’m not that old!”

And they both laughed with the same nasal honk, which they inherited from their father. Then giggled like girls at the similarity.

All the anxiety and trepidation was gone. Here were two sisters whose connection stretched beyond family dissolution, 40 years of separation and 2,000 miles. They felt as familiar as any two people could.

“Welcome home,” Leta gushed.

Reunited, part one

Every time she heard an automobile, Leta rearranged herself. Most of the time, she sat quietly on the sofa dressed in her Sunday clothes, gently tapping her hand on the right arm of the piece of furniture. The August air was heavy with humidity, but she didn’t seem to notice until and a trickle of sweat rolled down the back of her neck. She gently rubbed her neck with her handkerchief. The cotton and lace cloth drank in far more perspiration than she had anticipated.

“You doing all right there, Leta?” her husband Bob asked. He was sitting in his easy chair with a cigarette in one hand and the newspaper in both, occasionally dropping the paper to check up on his wife.

Leta sighed. His voice was calming. “Yes,” she answered.

“They’ll be here shortly.”

“I know,” Leta said. “It’s just been so long. What if we don’t like each other? What if we don’t know each other?”

“Let’s cross that bridge when we come to it,” Bob cautioned and returned to his paper.

At any moment, her sister Louise, brother-in-law Ellsworth, niece Leta and sister Mabel would pull up. Mabel had just arrived into town from Vancouver, British Columbia, where she had been living for nearly 40 years. When Mabel left, Leta was four years old.

It wasn’t a happy decision. But those weren’t happy times for Leta’s family. While Leta was too little to remember, her older siblings shared bits and pieces with her. Like many families, they didn’t like to talk about things that weren’t very nice. In one instant, the family had been uprooted and altered. Mabel learned she had a different mother, and more scandalously, her birth mother was her own mother’s sister. The revelation broke a delicate peace in the household, with both brothers Aaron and Fred leaving in disgust and Mabel herself fleeing West with a traveling family that needed a girl to help with the housework and children. In the meantime, their parents Julia and David divorced, Julia and the girls moved into a smaller house in Toledo, and David disappeared for several years. Eventually, Aaron returned to rejoin the family, but Fred and Mabel did not. Fred continued to wander in California and Colorado, sending an occasional letter to their sister Nellie. Mabel married a man with two children in Canada. David also returned and reunited with Julia for a time, but that was also not to last. Shortly before Louise’s trip to visit Mabel, they learned that their father had died in California.

But now Mabel had returned for a visit, and Leta did not know how their reunion would affect her. All that she remembered, for she was a small child when her family dissolved, was that she was happy and then terribly unhappy. Now, she was anxious.

The slam of a car door broke into her reverie, and Leta started.

“They’re here,” Bob said, matter-of-factly, and they both stood.

Leta nervously patted her hair and smoothed her dress.

“You look fine, my love,” Bob assured her.

A quick rap on the door sent a flame through her, and she stopped breathing. A moment later, her estranged, formerly beloved sister appeared in the living room.

To be continued.

The decisiion, part four

Although she was sure she had at some point during the night she had fallen asleep, Leta felt weary when she rose early. A steady rain had fallen through the night, but the clouds cleared to allow the sun to sweeten the morning. Leta grunted as she climbed out of bed, then dragged herself toward the bathroom. She had felt this achy and tired before—after one of her all-night escapades when she was a much younger woman. But this was different. She realized that when she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Her gray hair, the wrinkles, the slouch, the circles under her eyes and the drawn lips reminded her that she was old.  For a moment, she wished that she did not recognize herself, but she knew herself enough to realize that she was 78 and old.

She dressed and tidied herself, had coffee and toast and took a short walk in her neighborhood. Her hair was still disastrous, so she wore a headscarf. By this time, her neighbors were stirring. The earliest workers were getting in their cars. One of them waved as he drove away. A retired gentleman who lived down the block was fussing with his prize roses which had been beaten slightly by the night’s rain. He nodded as Leta walked by.  Several front drapes and windows flew open as she passed. Everyone wanted to welcome the cool morning air before the heat of the summer day burned in. A half an hour later, as she returned to her own apartment, small groups of young children were playing around their homes, their voices gurgling like brooks. Most of them basically ignored her, but on occasion one would take a hard look at her, which she didn’t acknowledge.

Her life was changing, and she needed to accept that.

It was Friday, and she knew Vivian’s routine. First, she would get up and put the coffee on, fix breakfast for herself and her husband, get him off to work and then clean up the kitchen, make the bed and tidy the bedroom. Once she finished, she would dress herself, finish her shopping list and then head out to get her hair done and go to the supermarket, bank, drug store and any other errands she needed to run. This was the first Friday of the month, so Vivian and Ed would have their card club in the evening. If Vivian was hosting, she would need to clean the basement recreation room and prepare the group’s snacks. Her grandchildren, being out of school for the summer and living only four blocks away, might appear in the afternoon for a visit and a snack. Even though she was busy, Vivian would spend thirty minutes to an hour with them before shooing them back home.

Vivian’s busy day gave Leta only a brief window to telephone and share her decision. She would accept the offer to move into the Methodist senior residence, even though it was farther away from her family, and prepare herself for the move and subsequent alteration of her life.

However, Vivian telephoned her instead.

“Good morning, Ma.”

“Vivian? I was going to call you this morning,” Leta said.

“Is everything all right?” Vivian asked.

“I’m fine,” Leta answered. “I didn’t sleep well, but I’m fine.”

“Well, I have some news that should help you sleep better,” Vivian said. “Mrs. Darling from Little Sisters just called me. A place has opened up, and she offered it to you, if you’d like it.”

Leta felt a rush of warmth through her body, like a first caress. It filled her with energy and eagerness. Nothing else mattered but this, and she took a moment to enjoy it before responding. She had not realized how much she wanted to move into the Roman Catholic location, only minutes from Vivian and her family, until that moment.

“Ma?”

“Yes, darling,” Leta said. “Yes, please call her back and tell her we accept.”

On July 15, 1972, Leta Eckman moved into the Sacred Heart Home for the Aged, where she would live for the next twelve years.