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“How did you know my name?” said Charlotte. “Did they tell you about me?”
“Who? No.”
The surprise had disarmed her fight to
break away from me and run out into the freezing cold. The pain left
her face for moment as she searched my eyes for a flush of
recognition.
In the light of the lantern now on the
floor of the barn, Charlotte did not look very much like the girl I
had seen at the train station many months before. Here face was red
and swollen, her nose running and shiny. Her hair was falling from
her bun in wind-blown tufts. Her eyes, those hazel eyes, though
dimmer, sadder and rimmed with sleepless nights, still sparkled like
candles.
I must have been staring.
“What's the matter with you sir? You
are too bold in your gaze, to speak not of accosting me as you
did.”
She
wiped her eyes and smoothed her hair. I came to my manners and offered
my kerchief. When she took it she looked me in the eye and paused.
“It's you! The rude young man, from
the station.”
“You told me your name.”
“And you remembered? You remembered
me?”
“Of course.”
“I'm rather embarrassed.”
“Do you live
here?”
“They have me... I'm staying here,
yes.”
Charlotte tightened the jacket around
her, a men's coat. One of the party guest's it looked
like.
“And you're..."
"A waiter, for the
party.”
"You don't talk like a waiter."
"I can when I need to, but this here's just you and me."
“There's certainly no one out here
that needs your service.”
“Sides you?”
She pretended not
to hear me.
The wind whistled outside. She got up
and looked out through a gap in the door.
“Whatever you was looking for...
whoever, it'll be a might better to catch your death in milder
weather.” I said.
“I'm not so sure.”
“I can't leave less I know you're warm and safe, you know that don't you?” I hugged my own shoulders to it make it more than obvious I didn't have a coat on. "It ain't exactly balmy for me neither."
She tried to hand my kerchief back, but
I put up a hand.
“You should go first,” I said. “I'm
already fired, sure enough, but walking in with you wouldn't improve
your situation none, whatever that is.”
“My situation is none of your
concern,” She said.
“I don't recall ask'n.”
She turned back to the door. I didn't
see the tear until she wiped it away.
“If you knew, the truth about me, you
might not stare at me with such...”
“I been to church enough to know
judgin' is for the Almighty alone.”
“These folks have been to church
quite a bit and they do it rather soundly.”
“Well candles are in church all week,
don't make em saints though. Who are these folks that judge you.
Parents? Kin?”
“I'm afraid I've become a bore. We
should let you get on to your job.”
“Ain't no matter now,” I said.
“Oh dear, I'm sorry for that. Please
accept my apologies if my errant behavior has cost you your job.”
“Well, I hope my behavior back at the train
station didn't cause you too much embarrassment. I didn't know rich
folk very well back them, before I started waitin' tables.”
“It's quite alright, Mr...”
She extended her hand.
“Newman.” I took her hand and
kissed it, like I'd seen gentlemen do at the country club. “If
there's ever anything I can do for you Miss. It seems like... Well,
like maybe you could use a friend.”
She turned without another word. I
watched her brace against the wind as she went towards the house. I
waited till she was inside before I followed, and went in the kitchen
entrance. I fetched my jacket without paying heed to the butler--who
was loudly firing and insulting me with twenty dollar words--and went on home.
My kin didn't take much delight in my
fine mood over the next few days. I was worse than after the train
station. I was “walking on air”, as they say. I had found my
Charlotte, still without a ring on her finger. They told me I didn't
have a chance but it was no matter.
I thought of going back to the house
where she was stayin' but I knew I wouldn't see her. I had seen those
folks plenty of times at the country club. They must have left her at
home for some reason. I didn't spect her situation would improve none
with a poor boy like me hanging around.
I took a break behind the kitchen of the country club enjoying the nice weather:
thirty-five degrees. The sun was out and water was dripping off the
eaves.
“Hey, you Newman?”
I turned to see a young lad, about
twelve.
“Yeah, I'm Newman.”
He looked at me funny. “You sure,
you're Newman?”
“Who's asking?”
“The lady said you were a tall, good
looking fella. You ain't too short but...”
“What lady?”
“I deliver milk, I just ride and run
the bottles to the door. I'm gunna drive my own wagon one day.”
“What lady!?”
“Hang on a minute mister, I had to
walk half cross town to get here.”
“What Lady?”
“This fancy lady big house on Dewey,
gave me a gold pin to get you this.”
He handed me an envelope and my
kerchief neatly folded on top of it. I put it to my lips hoping for
whiff of her perfume but the smell of sour milk from the boy's pocket
overpowered any, if there was.
I handed him a couple pennies.
“Golly gee,” he said with mock
enthusiasm.
“Can you be here tomorrow?”
“If you can find a nickle in your
pocket before then.”
“Yeah, okay ya little...
I stole off to the privy and opened the
envelope. Her script was imperfect and hurried. Strong, but erratic
strokes cried out from the page.
Dear Mr. Newman,
I trust the bearer of of this letter
has returned to your handkerchief. Thank you for it's use and for
your kind assistance on the 11th of March.
Please forgive my immodest
presumption Mr. Newman. My situation, as you called it, is
desperate and warrants a deviation from social graces. You had
offered your help and I have decided to place my trust in you.
Forgive my ambiguity. For now, I must test the waters of both your
character and that of our courier whom, if he is reading this
shall receive no more chocolates or jewelry to pawn!
I anticipate your favorable reply
and utmost discretion.
In your trust,
|
I was over the moon. The woman I had
dreamed of had sent me a secret letter. It was like a dime novel! But
I was filled with worry and unrest as well. If any one had wronged
her, I could think of nothing other that socking them on the jaw, no
matter their station, height or girth.
The mystery of her predicament made for
a sleepless night. Many drafts of my response rendered but a short
one.
Dearest Charlotte,
I am at your disposal, and
discretion. Please advise how I may be of assistance. No task is
too imposing.
With affection,
|
Dear Mr. Newman.
I fear any standing of respect I
have in your eyes will diminish markedly when I confess my sins. I
must be honest in any case. I write this with trepidation, please
pardon the shaking of my hand.
If, after hearing my sins, you
decide not to continue our association, I will understand and
release you from any offer of assistance. I will be most
appreciative of your continued discretion.
In my home of Philadelphia, I was
engaged to a man who took egregious liberties despite my protests
and left me bearing his child. He would not acknowledge his
responsibility, or honor his intentions to marry me. I confronted
him publicly to my family's great embarrassment. I was quickly and
secretly sent to live with distant relatives here in Omaha.
Even as you saw me on the day of my
arrival, I was two months with child. I gave birth to my daughter
the following winter. My daughter was taken from me only days
after her birth. My relatives will not tell me where she was
taken. Attempts to find her on my own have caused my relatives to
keep me effectively a prisoner in their home. Gilded though it may
be, I am but a bird in a cage. My father's funds of support give
them no incentive to release me or allow me to find my baby.
The loss of my daughter has left a
hole in my heart I cannot describe the depth of. It is my only
desire to have her back in my arms. Every day I am without her
becomes more dark and hopeless.
Mr. Newman, if you are still willing
to help me, I must warn you the road ahead will be difficult.
Though I come from a family of means, I myself cannot not offer
you any monetary compensation, but a few personal items and my
eternal gratitude.
I am very sorry if I have allowed
you to think higher of me than I deserve. I cannot treat you
dishonorably and hope for honor from you. Please forgive me.
I eagerly and anxiously await your
reply.
In your trust,
Charlotte A. Millard
|
I felt like I'd been kicked by a horse.
How could this be? I had created a Charlotte in my head based on a
few quick minutes, that didn't exist. I wanted to except it but it
just sat there like a lump in my throat.
Olaf walked up to the rear door of the
huge house with a flat of milk bottles that clinked together as he
walked. He tried his best to be quiet in the predawn hour, not for
fear of waking anyone, but of one person in particular. He set the
flat on the step and tip-toed away. A voice above him froze him in
his tracks.
“Any word?” Whispered
Charlotte.
“No Ma'am.”
“What? It's been two days.”
“Sorry, He hasn't given me
anything.”
“Go find him.”
“Awe, It's clear across town.”
“Please!”
“ I gotta go lady.”
Olaf ran back down the walk and to his
father's wagon. Charlotte closed the window knowing she would be
holding her breath for another 24 hours.
I sat in a tavern with my father and my
brother. I was practically crying into my beer.
“You're an idiot, a fool,” My
brother said.
“Go ahead, kick a man while he's
down.”
“You are! I have to listen to you go
on about Charlotte for month after month after month. Charlotte,
Charlotte, Charlotte. It's all you ever talk about. We can't even
talk about baseball without it ending up being about ever-lovin'
Charlotte.
“It's February Bill, who wants to
talk baseball?”
“Then, by the grace of the good Lord,
you find her, so I think: maybe now I won't have to hear about
Charlotte no more. But no, you were even worse. Now she asks your
help, what for? You won't say, but she needs you and you're cryin
because she ain't what you thought; how? You won't say.” Bill
dragged his beer off the bar. “I'm going to go and find someone who
wants to talk about somethin else, hell, politics, anything!” He
walked off.
It was a good minute before my father
said a word.
“Your mama. Prettiest girl in Omaha.”
He took a long sip of his beer. “Now, but not then so much. She had
three sisters. Everyone wanted to dance with 'em, but she was
standing alone whenever the fiddle played. I might not had the nerve
to talk to her otherwise. Now I always thought she was a
looker. After she had a fella tellin' her she was sweet lookin,
giving her ribbons for her hair and nice things, everyone else
thought so too.”
I rubbed my forehead into my palm. “I
don't see how...”
“Yeah, it's plain that you don't.”
He said less kindly. “A woman is how you treat her.” He
lit his pipe and started to leave. “I don't know what this girl
did, but whatever it was, it wasn't to you. You got everyone
convinced she walks on water the way you talk, cept yourself seems?”
“Do you have any idea vat time eet
is?” said the man at the door. “Ver up at four o'clock delifring
milk ya know.”
“Is Olaf here?”
“Olaf?”
“Who is it pa?”
“Some crazy man.”
I handed the young boy an envelope with
one hand and a quarter with the other.
“Tomorrow,” I said.
“Yeah, sure thing.” yawned Olaf.
Dearest Charlotte,
I will help you. I will do it for no
sum, but the honor of seeing you hold your daughter again.
Affectionately,
|
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