Bodark Creek - 13. Chapter 13

Our family got even bigger when my sister Frances moved from Hattiesburg. Frances and her husband Leon had two children. Audrey was the one who’d made me an aunt even before I was born, and William was my age. Frances had another son, too, but he died when he was only a year-and-a-half.

“That was really horrible,” Frances said “And a terrible surprise. When I was growing up, I was almost used to babies dying. We lost two of my brothers before they really learned to walk. But I thought that time had passed.”

Her son died of polio, which mostly city children got. Hattiesburg wasn’t all that big, so my cousin was just unlucky.

Frances was almost Mama’s age, and she remembered a lot of things about Daddy that even he didn’t. Or maybe he didn’t want to.

“I remember when Daddy’s hair was all dark,” Frances told Rosalind and me. “And I remember when he first grew his moustache. It didn’t come in the way he liked, so he shaved it off and started again.”

“Did it work better the next time?” I asked.

“It must have, because he has the same mustache today. Only that used to be brown, too.”

“I can’t imagine Daddy with dark hair,” I told Rosalind. But I couldn’t imagine my hair dark, either, and it was getting that way.

“All Bronner children start off light,” Frances said. “Then we go brown in time. I can hardly remember when my hair was blonde.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Rosalind said. “You’re still pretty.”

“Why thank you,” Frances said, and she did a little curtsy. I hate to admit it, but Frances was sometimes more fun than Mama. And she sure could talk.

“Is it really true that Daddy was once like Walter?” I asked. “Even worse than Walter when he first moved here?”

Frances laughed at that and asked, “Who have you been talking to?”

“It’s just something Walter said once, before he got married to Stefanie. He and Daddy were having a fight, and Walter argued, “Well, it isn’t my fault that I’m so much like you. After all, look who brought me up.”

“That sounds like something Walter might say,” Frances said. “Or would have then. He’s more polite now.”

“Who told him about Daddy?” Rosalind asked.

“I did,” Frances said, smiling. “I was always on Walter’s side. He was the sweetest boy.”

“Then who told you about Daddy?”

“His sister.”

“Daddy’s sister? Which one? I didn’t know you knew them. I didn’t think anyone in our family ever met Daddy’s sisters and brothers.”

“There were enough of them,” Frances said. “Seven all together. So you’d think it wouldn’t be hard to meet at least one. But that’s all we ever met. Aunt Lillie. She was older than Daddy by ten or eleven years, so she must have been past fifty. And it wasn’t too much later that she died.”

“What of?” I asked.

“That’s not very nice,” Rosalind pointed out. “You’re always asking things like that.”

“Maybe,” I admitted. “But that never stops you from wanting to hear the answers.”

“I’m not sure what Lillie died of,” Frances went on. “It wasn’t long after my own mama died, though it had nothing to do with that. Towards the end, my mama was always sick.”

I knew that Daddy’s first wife died partly from having my brother Curtis. Though he was born one year, she died the next, and he died the year after. But I never knew how it all happened.

“It was just a hard birth,” Frances said. “And Mama was already forty-two. She shouldn’t have been having more children.”

“Was Aunt Lillie there for the funeral?”

“No, Lillie came to visit before that, just after I started caring for Mama. I had to leave school to do that, but I was never sorry. Of course, I was sorry my mama died, but if she didn’t, you two wouldn’t be here now, would you?”

“We’re sorry, too,” I said. Though Rosalind laughed.

“What are we sorry for, Addy? That we were born?”

“Frances knows what I mean,” I said, making a face at Rosalind.

“I do,” she said, smiling. “But I understand how, when one mama dies and another takes her place, all sorts of mixed up feelings happen. I wasn’t sure whether I’d like your mama when Daddy started out with her. But that turned out all right.”

We laughed about that, then I asked, “Well, if Aunt Lillie wasn’t there for a funeral, why was she visiting?”

Frances didn’t really know. “I think it was more that she was passing through. She’d already buried her husband and I think was on the way to live with her daughter. That would have been our cousin Katherine, and she should still be alive. I don’t think she was much more than my age.”

“Do you ever hear from her?”

“No. We met Lillie, and that’s all we ever heard from that side of the family. My mama’s side was the same. She had family in Galveston, but we never met any of them. It’s funny that with all the people we’re related to, we’ve only ever met so few.”

“They’re all spread out,” Rosalind said.

“I have to say that’s true.”

“Was Aunt Lillie nice?” I asked.

“Oh, yes! She was very good at telling stories that made Daddy turn red, and we all liked that very much. Even Daddy. Though after she left, he said he probably talked to her more in one week than he had in the whole rest of his life.”

“That’s sad,” I said.

“Well, a lot of what Daddy’s family was living through wasn’t anything you’d want to talk about. At least, when he was less than your age. From everything I’ve heard, the war was awful. And soon after, Daddy was off on his own.”

“I can’t imagine that,” I told her.

“Either can I,” Rosalind added. “I can’t even imagine next year.”

“You’ll do fine,” Frances said. “Being done with school is good.”

Rosalind was almost finished with twelfth grade and was hoping to get a job at the mill. But with so many of our family working there, and with Frances and Leon just starting, the bosses said they had to give other people a chance. So Rosalind thought she might end up at the kindergarten.

“They don’t need real teachers,” she told Frances. “Just people who’ll be nice to the children. And I can do that.”

“I’m glad I didn’t have to think about earning money at your age,” Frances told us. “Then, before I did, I got married.”

“When was that?” I asked.

“Soon after Daddy met your mama. I’d been wanting to, and Leon was interested. And Daddy knew it was time. But he also needed me to run the house. Walter was only seven, and Dougie and Sonny were twelve and thirteen.”

“Are Rosalind and I are the first ones in our family who didn’t have to look after their brothers?” I asked.

“Or cousins,” Rosalind said. “Mama had to look after her uncle’s sons when his wife died.”

“You’re both lucky,” Frances said. “My daughter is, too.”

“Is Audrey going to work at the mill?” I asked. She was also almost finished with school.

“It all depends if she goes back to Hattiesburg. There’s a boy there who was very unhappy when we moved. But we had to take Audrey with us.”

I wish I had a boyfriend,” Rosalind said. “Or if there was someone I liked as much as he liked me.”

“You could have any number of boyfriends,” I teased. “But you think there’s something wrong with all of them.”

“That will change soon enough,” Frances said, laughing.

“That what Mama tells me,” Rosalind agreed. “Then she says I shouldn’t hurry.”

“Well, you shouldn’t. I didn’t, and either did your mama.”

“How old were you when you got married?” I asked.

“Twenty five.”

“And Mama was almost thirty. And when Walter wanted to, Daddy kept telling him to wait.”

“Yes, but did Daddy ever tell you how young he was? Or that there was a girl he was serious about even before that, but her daddy said, ‘No’”

“Daddy never told us that part. Walter could have used it to argue. Though in the end, Walter did what he wanted to anyhow.”

“Then if you find someone, go ahead and get married. If Audrey asked me now, that’s what I’d say.”

“Would you really?”

“Yes, but I’m not sure how Leon would feel.”

“Well, who does Audrey listen to most?”

Frances laughed at that and said, “I’ve got a feeling Audrey is a little like her uncle Walter. She’s going to do whatever she wants.”

“And I’m going to be working forever,” Rosalind said. “At least, a long time before anything happens.”

“That’s all right, too,” Frances said. “But the good thing about meeting someone is you never know when it’s going to happen. So try not to be too careful.”

“I won’t,” Rosalind said. “At least, I won’t get in anyone’s way.”

“You’re already doing that,” I told her. “I keep telling you that.”

“And I keep telling you that you don’t know what you’re talking about,” Rosalind said. “Just wait.”

But that was the problem. I was like everyone else. I didn’t want to wait.