dontravis.com blog post #547
Image courtesy of Fixthephoto.com
What can some woman named Hilda Winemaker, who lives in the far corner of the state, tell Richie about his mom and Miss Emmalee? Can she confirm what he suspects or lead him somewhere else? Here’s the conclusion to the story. Enjoy.
****
PORTRAIT
OF MISS EMMALEE
Once the dishes were cleared
away, we sat with coffee and a light sherbet for dessert. She leveled a
green-eyed stare at me and asked what I wanted to know.
“It must be of some importance
to you to bring you all the way up to Tulsa to meet an old woman.”
I smiled at the thought. “I’d
hardly call you that, ma’am.”
“If you don’t start calling me
Hilda, you can clear out of my house.”
“Okay, Hilda. First, I have to
tell you, I was estranged from my family for several years.”
“I know that. Tossed out on
your ear by your father at seventeen, I believe it was.”
My ears flamed. “Yes, ma’am.
And if you know that, you likely know the reason why, as well.”
“Yes. Your father was a
narrow-minded bigot. He didn’t believe you had a right to choose your own
direction.”
“Delicately put. He couldn’t
stand a pansy in his life. At the time, I recall my mother said something about
violating a contract. I asked about it, and she said the unwritten contract
between parents and a child.”
“Not exactly forthright, I’d
say. But understandable.”
“Can I be blunt, Hilda?”
“We won’t get anywhere if you
don’t.”
“I’ve run across things that
have raised some questions in my mind about… well, frankly, about my mother and
Miss Emmalee.”
Hilda’s laugh was like silver
striking crystal. “Given your own life choices, I can see where your mind led
you. But let me assure you, the thing that bound those two women together was
not a matter of the flesh. Well, indirectly, I suppose it was, but not in the
way you’re thinking.”
She paused and left me
wondering if I was going to have to pry it out of her question by question.
The woman leaned back in her
chair and relaxed, making me realize how tense I was. Finally, she asked a
question. “Where were you born, Richie?”
“In Sidney.”
“No, you weren’t. You were
born here in Tulsa.”
“But—”
“Hush now, and let me tell you
a story. Many years ago, Emmalee Vanderport and I ran around everywhere
together. Everyone considers us prim and proper now, but that wasn’t always the
case. For a time, we were rounders. There was a third girl… woman to our group.
She was from another part of the state, but we’d met her at college and kept in
touch afterward. That was your mom. She was married and a bit more sober and
considerably less affluent than we were, but she was lively and likeable, and
pleasant to be around. So when it happened, she was naturally the one Emmalee
turned to.”
“When what happened?”
“When you happened.”
I shook my head. “I… I don’t
understand.”
“Let me tell you my story, and
you will. Both your mother and Emmalee are dead and gone, so you should know
the facts. Emmalee’s father was a doting father, indulged her shamelessly, but
he was very strict about certain things. And one of those things was having a
child out of wedlock. Emmalee got pregnant by a young man she met in school
when he visited Sidney. To see her, I think. She was besotted by him beyond all
reason. Emmalee had a good head on her shoulders except when it came to… well,
let’s just call him John.
Hilda took a sip of her
lukewarm coffee. “She surrendered to him one night in the firm expectation he
was interested in marriage. It was only afterward that she learned he was
already affianced to a girl from Virginia. In fact, they wed shortly
thereafter. Your real father never knew that she had his child.
“When Emmalee learned she was
expecting, she came to me up here in Tulsa. Confessing her condition to her
father was impossible. She knew exactly what he would do. He’d find out who’d
compromised his precious daughter and gone after the culprit. Then he’d do what
your supposed father did to you. Throw her out. Emmalee was a strong woman, but
not that strong. While the rest of the world thought Emmalee Vanderport was
touring the world, she was hiding out up here in Tulsa with me.”
Hilda toyed with her sherbet
spoon. “It was my idea to contact your mother. We knew and trusted her
character, but we didn’t know the man she married. He had to be involved, of
course, and agreed once he learned Emmalee intended to give you an inheritance
the only way she could. Her grandmother had left her a trust and she
transferred it over to your mother. Fortunately, she was wise enough to put
everything in your mother’s name.”
I nodded. “Forever earning his
enmity.”
She gave a wan smile. “He was
resentful because Mary, the woman you called mother, wouldn’t take anything out
of the trust except a modest monthly income. The money was for you. He wanted
to live the lifestyle, and he took his revenge when he threw you out of the
house at the first opportunity.” Hilda met my gaze squarely. “Emmalee did not
intend to cause you troubles, but she did her best to ameliorate things. She—”
“She paid for my room and saw
to it that I had a job.”
“She also expected your
mother—well, the woman you called mother—would be able to overcome her
husband’s animosity. You took care of things yourself, when you volunteered in
the army as soon as you graduated high school.” She smiled. “And you’ve turned
out very well. Very well, indeed.”
Except that I was gay—maybe
because of the bastard of a father they’d chosen for me—and went without a
family for a few years, but I didn’t say that. “Why didn’t they tell me any of
this?”
“Emmalee swore everyone to
secrecy. There were only two provision she put in the trust. One was that Mary
and your so-called father had to move to Sidney so Emmalee could watch you grow
up, and the other was that you were never to know about your real parentage.”
“So that’s the contract they
referred to the day he tossed me out on my ear. He didn’t break it by throwing
me out, but he could have by telling me about the deal.”
“Exactly. But now that you
know, what are you going to do?”
“Nothing.”
“You aren’t going to violate
her privacy?”
“I wouldn’t do that to my mom…
either of them.”
“Wonderful.”
****
I thought hard on the drive
back to Sidney. Now that I knew, I understood Miss Emmalee’s frown. Mother’s
frown. It must have plucked her heartstrings every time she saw me. I
regretted that I hadn’t been able to show her more of the real me, but she saw
to it that I couldn’t. Well, I’d solved the puzzle. And yet, there were still
only two things important to me. Cars and Jorge. Not even a million and a half
smackers could eclipse either of them. But they might enhance them. I’d
figure that out later.
****
No wonder Miss Emmalee kept an eye on
Richie in his teen years. She was actually his mother. But tell me something.
Do you think Miss Emmalee was a strong woman? Wouldn’t a strong mother have
revealed herself, at least, after her father died. But we all do things in our
own way, don’t we? Thanks for hanging with me through five installments.
Next week, we’ll try something different.
Until then.
Stay safe and stay strong.
Now my mantra: Keep on reading and keep on writing. You have something to say… so say it!
A link to The Cutie-Pie Murders:
https://www.dropbox.com/s/ambxgy7e5ndmimk/CutiePieMurders%5BThe%5D.zip?dl=0
My personal links:
Email: don.travis@aol.com.
Facebook:
www.facebook.com/donald.travis.982
Twitter:
@dontravis3
See you next Thursday.
Don
New Posts every Thursday morning at 6:00 a.m. US Mountain time.
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