Calvin pulled himself toward the kitchen after breakfast Saturday morning. He was on dish duty today, which suited him fine. Maybe scraping plates and scouring pots and pans could get his mind off of a certain brunette citizen of free Brookhurst.
"Hey, Calvin, can you tell Nestor I'll see him outside after chores?" Young Tom appeared in the hall holding a stack of envelopes.
"No problem."
"Oh, and here's a letter for you."
"Thanks." Calvin started to open it, when he noticed Tom blinking up at him with his round black eyes. Calvin chuckled. "Can I help you with anything else?"
"Helping me with something else would mean that you actually helped with something just now. And I don't think taking a letter from me was helping me. It was more like me helping you. You wouldn't have even seen the letter until tonight when you went upstairs."
"There is a point to all of this?"
"No, no point."
Calvin started to turn away.
"Just that," continued the rascally ten-year-old as Calvin turned back to face him, "you've been acting weird lately. Normally, I wouldn't care what a guy did, but you're, you know, you're Calvin."
"Look, kid, I don't know what you're getting at but—"
"You haven't played baseball with us for weeks, and what happened to the blackjack king? No poker nights with the guys. No sneaking in girlie magazines. You don't even try to snag fudge from town for us kids."
"I've had a lot on my mind."
"It's not a girl, is it?"
Calvin's eyes widened for a second before returning to normal size to feign nonchalance. "Of course it's not. Now scoot."
Tom wasn't buying it, nor was he budging. "It is a girl! Does she have big knockers like Miss December?"
"You know you're not supposed to be looking at those magazines. You're way too young."
"You're only as young as you think you are," the kid said with an air of mock-wisdom.
Calvin laughed. "I think you've got that a little backwards."
"So, does she?"
Instead of giving him an answer, Calvin turned the boy around by his shoulders and gave him nudge in the direction he'd come from. "Goodbye, Tom. I'll tell Nestor you'll see him outside."
Tom threw his hands up and looked back with an irritated but impish sort of smile. "Sheesh, so touchy! I was only trying to help."
"Go help someone else."
"I'm going. I'm going."
Calvin shook his head as Tom scampered down the hallway to finish his mail deliveries and find mischief, whichever came first. The kid reminded him of himself even more than Nestor did. He was ten and tough and had all the answers, but there was something else there, something sad inside of him, an attribute not uncommon among the boys at Miss Pinchley's. Sighing, Calvin shifted his attention back to the letter and finally ripped it open.
July 2, 1938
Heya Little Brother,
I have good news. I've actually found steady work. I'm working with a rancher in Monterey, California. Yep, way out west. It's a good job actually. It's part manual labor part paperwork, if you can believe that. The guy fashions himself some sort of movie type. I don't know much about what he does yet, but I am making good money.
I miss you. You're all the family I've got left. We have to stick together, even if we are 3,000 miles away from each other. I keep thinking about the good times we had – the picnics and the parties, the town jamborees. Then that scum Donovan went and destroyed it all. I know you don't like to talk about it too much, but Calvin, sometimes I just can't get it out of my head. We're just lucky he died in jail otherwise you'd have a murderer for a brother. Well, enough of that talk. Have you started dating yet? I vaguely recall your mentioning Mr. Marchbeck's girls having grown up nicely. I don't mean to lecture you, Calvin, but be careful where women are concerned. They have delicate hearts. Don't be the type of guy who repeatedly breaks one after the other just to get under a skirt. Be a gentleman. And if perchance, you happen to find one that bowls you over for a loop, be good to her.
I hope to see you one day soon. I really do miss you annoying me day in and day out.
Love,
Riley
***
Later that day, Dr. Zeke Jessup strode into Miss Pinchley's office, wearing a serious expression. He looked startled by Calvin's presence. "Miss Pinchley. I wondered if we could have a word please."
"Dr. Jessup, you remember Calvin, don't you?"
"Yes, of course."
"He's overdue for his physical, you know," Miss Pinchley said to the doctor.
Calvin groaned. He hated the annual physical mandated for the orphans by the state, particularly because Doc Jessup was in charge of it. Despite what everyone else seemed to think, the man was a snob. Sure, he helped out the orphanage, donated his time and lots of his money to keep it running, but the way he looked at Calvin, like he was a piece of dog dung beneath his shoe, revealed his true character. Calvin managed to avoid Doc Jessup for nearly two years now. Miss Pinchley glowered at him, noticing his expression.
"Calvin, you don't want to unnecessarily spread anything to the younger children, do you?"
"No, ma'am."
"Good. Dr. Jessup?"
"Yes, of course. I'll be by tomorrow. 7:00 a.m. sharp, young man." He pointed his long freckled finger in Calvin's face. "Remember, it's our duty to maintain a healthy and sane society."
Calvin ground his teeth and pushed down a bout of bile. He was sure Jessup had been alluding to his mother when he mentioned sanity. He had been their family doctor growing up and the one who'd placed him at Miss Pinchley's. Calvin blamed the good doctor for a few other things he cared not to think about at the moment. It was always better to put things that soured the mind outside of it and try to make the best of one's situation, wasn't it?
"Now, Hortense," began the doctor. "I have some important things to discuss with you," said Jessup.
"All right then. That will be all, Calvin."
Calvin left, but not before noticing Doc Jessup held a package just like the one he'd taken to the post office for Miss Pinchley the day he ran into Teddi. Why would Miss Pinchley send the doctor a package when he came by so often? Calvin thought back to the address label of the first package. It had been headed to some man in Huntington, NY. Maybe Miss Pinchley was mailing things for Doc Jessup, but what for? Didn't he have a secretary to do that at his office? Or couldn't his wife do it for him? Calvin thought about the glass rattling inside of the package he'd mailed the other day and wondered if this one would do the same when he took it to the post office for Miss Pinchley if she indeed asked him to take it for her later. Calvin put it out of his mind for now. He didn't want to waste his thoughts on the likes of Doc Jessup.
***
Teddi missed her dog. The small cocker spaniel, who died a little over six months ago, had been her greatest comfort on days like today. It was midmorning. The sun filtered through the dining room window of their house, claiming a happy day, when Teddi felt it would be anything but. She twiddled her fork through the food on her plate as she sat across from her grandmother.
"Something wrong with your eggs, Theodora?"
"I don't like them poached."
"We must learn to endure the things we don't enjoy on occasion."
Teddi knew her grandmother was no longer referring to breakfast, so she willed herself not to scowl, or better yet, throw her plate of eggs across the table. It was, of course, unreasonable to expect her to maintain a pleasant expression, not toss her eggs, and remain silent all at the same time. So she forced a smile and replied to her grandmother's remark. "I assume that only applies to me, right?"
"We have discussed this at length. Things are they way they are for a reason."
"The reason they are any way is because you don't allow me any control over my life. I'm not allowed to talk to my sister or choose my school or who I want to be friends with."
"Ah, so this is about that boy again. Theodora, what happened to my docile little girl, who once did as she was told?"
"That's just it. I'm not a little girl any more. And it's not about the boy. It's about my life. I'm old enough to make some decisions for myself."
"You certainly are not. Contrary to what you think, you are still a child, a child who needs more discipline and lessons in refinement than I have obviously instilled in you."
"So, you think I'm crude now?"
Her face softened a bit. "No, of course, I don't. But I don't want you to turn out like your sister."
At this, Teddi's control dissolved. "There is nothing wrong with my sister!" Teddi was on her feet. "You're the one with the problem. Secrets. That's what this family is all about. Why should Liza have to hide because people are so hateful? Why should I have to lie about her? Why can't you tell me about my—"
Elizabeth stared at Teddi, daring her to continue. But the younger woman backed down, knowing a fight on her part would prove futile. This was a subject Teddi was still too frightened to bring up. In fact, she had not brought it up to her grandmother since the day she read that article in the paper four years ago. But that did not stop the ache she felt burning inside her to know what had happened between her parents the night her mother died.
"Miss Carrington's is a lovely school. It's a privilege that not many girls get to partake in."
Teddi gave her grandmother a thin smile. The subject was closed. She was being shipped off to Connecticut, and there was nothing she could do about it. She missed her grandfather. He was in the city and would be for a while longer on professional matters. It wasn't that he could particularly do anything about her situation. Though Judge Donovan was a powerhouse in the community, when it came to their home and children, Elizabeth Donovan was judge, jury, and executioner.
"May I be excused?" asked Teddi, wanting desperately to cocoon herself upstairs in the attic and write to Fuzzy—the nickname she and her parents once used for Liza—a long, drawn out letter, a letter that she had no way of mailing with her grandmother guarding her like she was, but a letter she had to write nonetheless.
"You may," said Elizabeth. "Theodora?" Teddi stopped at the doorstep. "I'm only doing what's best for you."
Dear Liza,
I'm sorry I haven't been able to write to you sooner. This letter is going to be very difficult to get to the post office, since grandmother is watching me like a hawk. She's stopped visiting her friends, so she can make sure I stay home. Why, you ask? Because I talked to a boy. That's it! A boy walked me home, and it wasn't anything romantic or even close. He was just being nice. We're just friends. Not even friends because Grandmother put a stop to it. She doesn't approve of him. Actually, I'm not sure you would approve of him either, but he's a nice boy. He's a good person. I can tell that already. Well, none of it matters because, to make matters worse, I'm getting shipped off to Miss Carrington's next month.
I guess I should be glad for a chance to get out of this nuthouse. The thing is, I'm going to miss it. Not like I miss you or anything. I'd much rather be with you in Paris than be here. But this is my home, Liza. And what about Grandfather? I can't just leave him here. And Ben. He doesn't have any other friends besides me. What's he going to do all alone? And, well, the boy I met, actually I already knew him. So do you sort of. Well, his name is Calvin. Yes, Calvin Wynne is the boy I walked home with. He didn't even talk about any of it except for to say he doesn't hate me. I wouldn't blame him if he did. I just had so much fun with him. We went to the movies. I bought my own ticket, so it wasn't a date, but it was... Well, I don't know what to say.
I have to go now, Liza. I really really miss you, and I have so much to ask you about...mother. I know you don't like to talk about it, but maybe one day you will. I'm getting more curious about her, and I'm forgetting her. I guess it would be a bad thing for you to write things out in print if you find them that troublesome to mention. Grandmother has been destroying the letters you've sent. I don't think she's read them. I think she would be able to tell that we've been going behind her back if she had. But don't worry because.... Oh, I just thought of an idea! I'll ask Ben to help me out. Maybe you can send your letters to his house until I start school. Don't worry. You don't have to talk about mother if you don't want to yet. But I will find out one day. Anyhow, I think my plan with Ben might work. I know I shouldn't make a federal case out of this but reading your letters is the only thing that keeps me from going bananas.
Love,
Teddi