At the station Mrs. Ford gathered us together. “We have no reservations, girls. If you ever have traveled in France you know what it’s like without them. I suggest we go in twos and board wherever we can.”
I turned to Rosie, my new determination pouring into the immediate task of getting on the train. “Let’s run for it. Whoever gets into a compartment try and hold a seat for the other.”
She nodded. “Let’s get two seats by the window if we can. I want to see everything.”
For once we were in perfect accord. It was hard for me to even remember the girl who had been shown with her family to a luxurious coach by an obsequious Mr. Carusi. As the train backed in, we ran along the platform looking intently in each car. I was so engrossed that I almost ran into two men standing by the train. As I backed up, I caught words spoken in angry French. My hard earned fluency held.
“For the love of God. Why are these Americans such gluttons?”
I stopped; my curiosity aroused. I pretended to be examining my bag and listened further.
“I said two hundred,” an American shouted in equally angry English, “and Goddammit I mean it. Two hundred men and two hundred rations.” An American sergeant was glaring down at a French sergeant half his size.
The Frenchman rose on tiptoe, shoulders shrugged up to his ears, hands outspread. More angry French “Tue es con.” Fortunately, the American sergeant did not know he had just been called an idiot.
I started to take a step towards them, intending to help, when an officer appeared.
“What’s the trouble sergeant?”
“Sir, this Frog – this French guy, sir, can’t understand a Goddam --- a thing. I’m taking a detachment out of this burg and he’s responsible for the rations. He’s got half a ration per man on the train, and the boys won’t stand for that.”
“Of course not,” the officer agreed. He was a major and young and he wore pilot’s wings. “Doesn’t he speak any English?”
“Not a Goddam – not a word sir.” The two sergeants stood looking at him.
The station blurred, and suddenly time turned back. I was sitting at the dinner table in a too-small dress, talking and talking. Yes, they were the same blue eyes, the same large hands. Yet now he looked less the boy and more the man, his large frame filled out and fitting smoothly into his uniform.
It was summer – the summer that James had come home late from college. He was late in arriving because he had to stay for conditional exams in engineering. He had not wanted to major in engineering, but Papa had seconded Grandpapa’s insistence, and James had resentfully acquiesced. He wrote to urge the family to go on up to Lake Geneva without him, and he would follow when he got home. I knew he was hoping we would all leave so that he would not have to face Papa. But Papa would not hear of leaving until James arrived.
“If James is so indifferent and good for nothing as to fail, everyone in the house will have to suffer because of him,” he announced at dinner one night. I was not surprised he had failed. I knew his heart was not in engineering. It was where Grandpapa’s heart was, and just as he had forced Papa into that field which his son had now deserted, he now had all his hopes pinned on James. James was proving that he could be forced to study it, but he could not be forced to love it. On the one hand my heart ached for him because he was stuck in a life not of his choosing. On the other hand, I would have given anything to be off a at college majoring in anything at all, an idea that was firmly vetoed the one time I brought it up. I knew hardly any young girls of my acquaintance who had been allowed this priveledge. After waging a long and fruitless battle I finally gave up. For once both Mamma and Papa were united in their veto. Papa because it was a waste to give an advanced education to a girl, and Mamma because it would make me less attractive to the husband she was still hoping I would attract against all odds.
James’ late arrival threw everything into confusion. Half-packed trunks lay open in the hallways, servants wore long faces at the postponement of their summer holidays, and no one knew what to wear for fear the wrong thing would be soiled at the last minute.
When James finally did arrive, he forgot to wire ahead so that we would know and be able to get things ready to leave the next day. That delayed our departure another day, and Papa was more irritated than ever. James was treated to a long session alone with him in the study, and he emerged looking glum, but not in the least repentant. Trixie and I tried to let him know that we were sorry and, on his side, but he was so wrapped up in his own misery he did not really notice. I last saw him, mid-morning, heading out the door with a clean suit on.
Trixie and I, wearing old clothes, were told to sit in our room and read quietly until lunch time. Everyone else had things to do and was rushing around, up and down the stairs, doing them. With one last reminder to stay out of the way, Nanny rushed out of the room to join the doing, and Trixie and I were on our own. Trixie immediately put down her book and went over to the dressing table and began trying out new hair styles. That held no charms for me, and I went over to the window seat and plunked down with A Tale of Two Cities. I knew exactly the proper way of sitting while reading, and I made every attempt to do exactly the opposite. With my skirts rumpled beneath me, I lay back in the enclosure, and put my feet up on the cushion. Reveling in my small revolt, I read until lunch.
At the lunch table, it was apparent that everything that James had on would have to be washed.
“Where have you been?” Mamma asked, looking as if she wanted to cry.
“In the lot on Fifty-First Street playing ball,” James said, his mouth a tight line.
“Today!” Mamma said.
“What’s wrong with today?”
James sounded a little impudent and with everyone on edge, impudence was dangerous. Papa raised his head slowly. My heart gave a jump. I could almost feel Mamma controlling her irritation.
“What boys were in the lot?” asked Mamma as if she were really interested.
“The Kinneys,” James said.
Trixie leaned forward. “Was Tim there?”
The wrinkle that had come between Mamma’s eyes when James mentioned the Kinneys grew deeper. “How do you know this boy, Trixie?”
I could tell that Trixie regretted asking and was wondering myself where this new interest had come from. “I’ve just seen him around,” said Trixie as she idly studied her lap.
“Aren’t they the people who live in that little house with the big yard and all the bushes?” asked Mamma.
Trixie nodded. “The grass is so high you can hardly see the house, but it’s yellow. It used to be yellow anyway. Now the paint’s worn off. Didn’t it use to be yellow, James?”
“I never noticed,” said James spearing a piece of cold chicken with his fork.
“I did,” said Mamma. “Trixie’s right. It used to be yellow, but what I noticed most about it was its size. I’ve often wondered how so many people could live in so little space.”
“Little space?” said James, his face resentful. “They have room enough for themselves, and for a guest too. He’s staying there now overnight. He’s a friend or a relative or something and he’s on his way to West Point.”
“What does he look like?” asked Trixie.
James momentarily diverted, grinned at Trixie and said, “You’re hopeless Trix. He looks like any normal human being and he’s a nice guy. He won a Presidential appointment to West Point. You can find out for yourself anyway. I invited him to have dinner with us tonight.”
Papa cleared his throat. I looked at the clock, my rebellion now habit. “Your nice guy is not the sort of person we wish to entertain here James. One would think you have done enough to upset this family. However, you have extended an invitation and it must be honored.” With those words he rose from his place and left the dining room.
Once Papa had left the room, Mamma let out a wail. “James, how could you do such a thing? The whole place is in mess. No rugs, no draperies, dust covers on the furniture. What will he think ---“
“Nothing,” said James. “He isn’t coming to look at the furniture.”
“But Emma has so much to do closing down the big icebox, and Josie has all the silver to put away. Even if the servants weren’t upset, there’s no time now to have anything but the kind of plain family dinner people have the night before they go away for the summer.”
“It’s food isn’t it?” And then with a pleading look at Mamma. “He isn’t coming for the food anyway. He’s coming to see me – to talk to me.”
“I want you to have your friends. But it’s the wrong time and we don’t even know this boy.”
“He’s just like anybody else. Just because he comes from Wyoming – “
“Wyoming. Is – what does his father do?”
“How should I know?”
“There aren’t any real cities in Wyoming. He must be a farm boy.”
“He lives on a ranch with horses and cattle…..” James voice trailed off and I could see for a moment that the young boy who had yearned to go west and have adventures was still there in the college boy.
Mamma just sagged in her chair, and then saw Trixie and me sitting quietly in ours.
“And you two. What in the name of common sense will you wear? All your nice summer dresses are in the trunks and it’s too hot for winter ones.” Mamma paused, then said, “Those old white swisses— “
Trixie yelped like a dog that had been stepped on.
“Never mind,” Mamma said. “It’s lucky for you we decided the swisses were too short for the lake and didn’t pack them.”
Lunch was definitely over. James headed outside to go meet his new friend.
Trixie and I went upstairs, what I had thought to be a dull afternoon suddenly charged with interest. When we reached our room Trixie said, “If that nasty old swiss is too short to wear at the lake, then it’s too short to meet a new boy in.”
I shrugged, “Do you like the old, checked gingham you have on any better?”
“No, I don’t. But I don’t intend to wear that either.” Trixie lowered her voice. “I’ve got another dress. I took my yellow pique out of the trunk and hid it. I was going to tease Mamma to let me wear it on the train. Now instead I’ll put it on tonight.”
“But they won’t let you.”
Trixie smiled her inward smile, “Oh, yes, they will. I’ll put it on just as dinner is announced and run downstairs and into the drawing room and no one will dare say anything in front of a guest.”
It might work. Trixie would probably make it work. The yellow pique was new and stylish, and Trixie would be beautiful for the strange boy to see. He would see me in the old swiss – short-waisted and frumpy, too young and too tight. I’d rather wear the gingham. At least it was big enough. But probably the dress would not make any difference. If the blue chiffon had not worked, then it would probably not make any difference what I wore.
I wondered what the strange boy looked like. Perhaps he looked like the Kinneys. James said he might be a relative. Would he be tall? I was filled with a strange feeling of restlessness and just had to get out of the room.
“This is awfully boring,” I said to Trixie, “I think I’ll go out for a while.”
“I won’t,” said Trixie. “I won’t take a chance on having that boy see me in this dress.”
“Well, I’m going anyway. It --- it’s just too hot in here.”
I slipped into the hall, closing the door softly behind me. Before anyone could interfere, I would go to the back yard. A few minutes before, I had heard James’ voice and an answering one as the boys passed under the window. They must be tossing the ball in the back yard. I could go down and watch them from behind the lilac bushes without being seen.
Hearing someone on the front stairs, I raced stealthily down the back stairs and out the back door. What on earth was I doing out here anyway? I did not really know. If James saw me, he would be furious, if the boy saw me I would be embarrassed, and if Nanny saw me I would get a reprimand. But I stayed and peered out at a tall figure in dark trousers and short sleeves that was throwing and catching the ball with ease. Wyoming. What must it be like to live in Wyoming? Maybe on a ranch. There would be no cotillions, no formal dances, none of the exacting social game at which I was such a failure. Maybe a boy like that would be different that the ones I knew here in Chicago. To come from the West, out where there were so few people and so much space. For a moment I understood James as my spirit seemed to expand at the thought. Galloping across miles and miles of open country, astride a powerful horse, hawks circling in the air above and beside me---.
“Valerie,” Nanny’s voice was harsh and sudden. “What are you doing hiding in the bushes like a thief. Come into this house this instant. At the great age of eighteen you are supposed to be a young lady, not a hoyden. I did not expect this of you.”
I followed her obediently into the house but felt strangely unrepentant and unembarrassed. I followed Nanny up the stairs. Her back was straight with disapproval. As we passed James’ room, Nanny stopped short and went in. I followed, curious. Over the back of James’ chair dangled a dark blue jacket and a red tie, which Nanny placed on a hanger and hung in the closet.
“We can’t expect a stranger to do things that James doesn’t do after all his upbringing,” Nanny said. “That poor boy isn’t used to much. Probably never had a closet to hang his clothes in.”
“Why do you have to say that?” Somehow this guest from the West had become strangely my own, and I felt the need to defend him.
“Because it’s true. That coat is cheap and shoddy and so is the tie. Nothing against the poor boy. It only goes to show how grateful you young ones should be. Go to your room now. I’ll get the swisses and see how they look.”
I went back to our room followed shortly by Nanny with a big box. Presently we two girls were standing before the pier glass arrayed in white swiss.
“They’ll need pressing,” Nanny said, eyeing them critically. “Otherwise, they’ll just have to do. That boy doesn’t know turnips from turkey, I’ll be bound.” She left carrying the dresses.
Trixie returned to the mirror above her bureau. “Will he eat with his knife, do you suppose?”
“Who?” I asked knowing full well who she meant.
“You know who.”
I just grunted pretending to be absorbed in the book I had picked up again. I had no intention of talking about him with anyone. Since I had seen him in the yard, he had become somehow mine. He was taller even than James, his hair was light, but I had not been able to see the color of his eyes. But tonight, perhaps at the table, close like that --- little prickles of excitement and dread I did not understand made reading impossible.
I knew that Papa would be a problem at dinner. With a guest of whom he did not approve the best we could hope for was silence. Of course, the guest would sit next to Mamma, but no matter how gracious Mamma was, the leaden silence at the other end of the table would reach out to muffle the thoughts and voices of everyone, making the guest feel unwelcome. But I was determined to make this evening different somehow.
Just as Josie announced dinner, James and the strange boy came downstairs. James presented him, saying “Mother and Father, this is Matthew Brandt.”
Papa grunted.
“And Miss Winthrop, Matthew,” Mamma’s voice seemed to turn him around and guide him to where I stood. Miss Winthrop. In the short, too tight swiss with the babyish blue sash. I was Miss Winthrop. My cold hand found itself in the firm grip of a large one, while a pair of blue eyes looked straight into mine.
Then Trixie swept in, and she was simply beautiful. Above the stylish yellow dress, her dark hair rioted in a pompadour and puffs.
Mamma looked startled and then said, “And Miss Beatrice Winthrop, Matthew.”
“How do you do?” Matthew said.
Mamma led the way to the dining room and stood at the end of the table. “Matthew, will you sit on my right? James on my left. Valerie, you will be next to Matthew.” James, as usual, pulled out Mamma’s chair, and with only an instant’s hesitation Matthew did the same for me. But he failed to push the chair in far enough, and I had to sit forward on the edge in order to reach the table. But not for worlds would I have indicated that anything was wrong by moving my chair an inch. Trixie gave me a forlorn look across the table. The yellow piqué had deserved a more exciting fate.
I was sitting beside this boy from Wyoming, close enough to touch him if I had dared. I felt his presence looming massively. His shoulders were wider than the chair and his jacket wrinkled when he moved. I had to turn my head slightly to see him. Trixie could see him without seeming to look and was observing him with hawkeyed but veiled attention from behind a bowl of June roses that formed the centerpiece.
I wished Trixie would not watch so closely. Our way of serving and eating were probably new to him, and he might make a mistake and be embarrassed. I did not want anyone, not even my sister, to see him make a mistake.
Jellied consommé came first. As soon as Mamma had picked up the spoon with the round bowl, Matthew did the same. When Josie passed the crackers, he took one, broke it in two and nibbled as everyone else did. Only his sun-browned hands contrasted sharply with the tablecloth. Against its gleaming whiteness they looked almost dirty. I could see that his face was just as tanned, making his eyes vivid like blue circles of sky through a brown porthole.
“I hear you are going to West Point,” Mamma said.
Yes, Mrs. Winthrop, I’ve been working towards it for years.” His voice sounded loud and deep in the quiet room. Everyone, even Josie was listening.
Papa cleared his throat, and the eyes turned toward him. “Are you related to the Kinney family?”
“Yes, sir, Mrs. Kinney is my mother’s sister.”
“Then you are Tim’s cousin,” Trixie said with a smile.
“Yes I am.” Matthew smiled back at her over the rose bowl. “But this is the first time in my life I’ve seen Tim or any of them. None of us had the money with which to travel.”
There was a sudden, deafening silence in the dining room. Trixie’s face took on an expression as though it had been punched. Papa cleared his throat, but no words followed the clearing. Mamma looked down at her plate, and James’ face turned a dark red. The swinging door slipped shut after Josie as though it had pushed her from the room. Matthew had broken a conversational taboo that was so ingrained in us that even I had felt a moment of shock. He had mentioned money. Not that it was not an ever-present fact of our lives. We were surrounded by the effects of our family’s money, but it was gauche to speak of it. It was one of those rules which masked what I always thought to myself as rampant hypocrisy. Mamma and her friends all but shouted their access to money by their clothes and furs, and my grandparents took great pride in their sit-down dinners for twenty-four with course after course at a table glittering with silver and crystal.
I looked over at Matthew, and his face had taken on a tentative look as if he knew he had done something wrong but could not understand what it might be. It was clear I was going to be Matthew’s only ally at this table, and suddenly it became very important to do something to save him from this moment.
Into the ringing silence I heard my voice say, “Maybe you could ride one of your horses all the way from Wyoming. It would be fun, I think.”
He laughed – more than the attempt was worth, helping me to fill the silence. “I could I suppose. It would be fun for me, but not for the horse.”
I returned the laugh, building with him against the silence. “Why were you interested in West Point?”
He looked at me as if there were nobody else in the room. “I want to get into a new field. I’m really interested in airplanes, in flying.”
“How wonderful. I hope you can.”
In my own ears, my voice sounded high with excitement. Here was plain old, tongue-tied Valerie Winthrop talking with a guest, a male guest at that, as if she did this all the time. How often I had watched Trixie do this and now, amazingly, it was me. I felt as if I were floating in space with clouds beneath me.
The dinner, which had staggered for those few moments, gained momentum again. Through it all Matthew talked and laughed, seemingly at ease among us once again. But I could feel about him an awareness like the quick careful stepping of a cat on strange ground. His eyes noticed which fork or spoon Mamma used and how she served herself, and the big brown hands imitated deftly. There was no further opportunity for a talk with just the two of us, but once Matthew threw me a sly smile that said he knew I shared the secret of his clever pretending.
Before nine-thirty Matthew said he would have to go. He shook hands all around while I watched with a sinking heart. Was this novel evening to come to an end with just a good-bye? I felt a desperate desire to say, “Don’t go.”
He turned to me. “Goodbye, Val – Miss Winthrop. Thanks.” And then his voice dropped to a whisper – ‘Thanks for everything.”
“Goodbye” was all I was able to say, and then he was gone.
Mamma let out a big sigh and said, “Well that wasn’t so bad after all. Now, you two girls had better get to bed. Trixie you shouldn’t have kept out that dress, but since you did, you might as well wear it on the train. Have Nanny put your traveling dress in a suitcase.”
“It was really silly to wear it,” Trixie muttered under her breath as she started up the stairs. “He was only a hick from the country.”
I felt a sudden rush of hot blood and clutched at her arm with such strength that she gasped. “This evening has been so….so….” I could not think of a word. I rushed on “I have met someone who is different from anyone else I have ever met.”
Startled, Trixie looked at me her face wearing a puzzled look. “Different how?”
“I can’t tell you because you would never understand,” I said running up the stairs as fast as I could, for indeed, I was not even sure myself what I meant.
From that moment on I had a secret that I held close and jealously guarded. I had met someone different. There really were people in the world beyond my constricted life in Chicago. From a fragment of an afternoon and a brief evening, from a few sentences and a shared laugh, I built a dream. When ignored by the boys of my age, when bored by the round of visits and female conversation, when left sitting while others danced, I had the memory of this one special evening. But in reality, Matthew had evaporated, leaving no trace. James never mentioned him, nor did he come again to visit his cousins. And then events in the family wiped all dreams away, especially those of that young, stupidly naïve girl.