dontravis.com blog post #594
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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.
Thank you for indulging me in this repost for the past few weeks. I was right... March was a monster. More appointments than I can count. Next week, I'll try to do better.
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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