Monthly Archives: June 2019

Remember Chapter Fourteen

Previously: Retired teacher Lucinda remembers her favorite student Vernon. Reality interrupts when another boarder Nancy scolds her for talking to her daughter Shirley. She remembers letting it slip to Vernon that she didn’t like Nancy. She helps him with an essay about death, but leans in too close to Vernon.
Lucinda collapsed on the bed and at once fell into a deep sleep. Only minutes seemed to pass when another knock at the door interrupted her rest. Looking at the alarm clock on the nightstand, she saw it was already a little after five o’clock.

“Listen.” Nancy stood on the other side of the door. “We gotta talk.”

“Of course.” Lucinda stood and went straight to her rocker and sat. “Come in.”

“Somehow Shirley has heard the name Vernon Singleberry, and I don’t like it.” She stood in front of the old teacher. Her hands were on her hips.

“Shirley’s a very bright young lady, and she deserves to know the truth.”

“Maybe someday.” She narrowed her eyes and shook a finger at Lucinda. “But not now and for damn sure not from you.”

The old woman rubbed her chest and tried to show a knowing smile. “She already knows the story about the movie star is foolish. That’s why she doesn’t like school.”

“What’s so bad about not likin’ school?” she asked with a sneer. “I hated school.”

“Don’t you want better for Shirley?” Lucinda leaned forward in her rocker.

“What the hell’s wrong with being a beautician?” Nancy folded her arms across her chest and pinched her lips.

“Nothing. It’s just that—“

“Stop it,” she interrupted with acid on her tongue. “I ain’t your student no more. You ain’t nobody’s teacher no more. Nobody cares what you think. Git it?”

“Yes.” Lucinda fell back in her chair.

“If you don’t stop this, I’m goin’ to tell everyone the truth.” Nancy stepped closer and lowered her voice in a threat. “You had the hots for Vernon. Yeah, I know about the time you fell all over him. Vernon was so dumb he thought you had lost your balance, but I knew you wanted to cop a feel. Do you want these old biddies to know about that?”

“No,” she replied, too tired to fight back.

“Good. We understand each other. Don’t talk about Vernon again.” Nancy turned and slammed the door on her way out.

Lucinda breathed in, trying to fill her lungs and found herself swept back to her classroom. When she saw Vernon enter she smiled. He wore another sweater and, for once, has no books in his arms.

“Mrs. Cambridge?” he asked in a shy whisper. “May I speak to you a moment?”

“Vernon. I’m so glad you came back.” She smiled. “You’ve really been a comfort to me today.”

“Oh. Then maybe I should come back another time. I’ve got a problem.” Vernon shuffled his feet and looked down.

“Don’t mind me.” Lucinda motioned to a chair. “You know I always told you to come to me when you’ve got a problem.”

“Thank you.” He sat but kept his head down.

“Well, what is it?” She touching the tips of her fingers together, assuming the posture of a sage. “Some assignment giving you trouble?”

“No.”

“Coach Cummins harassing you again about your game playing?” She was running out of possibilities.

“No.”

Her hands went to her face as Lucinda straightened in her chair. “This is right before Christmas of your sophomore year, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“It’s Nancy Meyers.” She felt a knot tighten in her stomach.

“Yes.”

“I remember now,” she whispered.

“Mrs. Cambridge, I love Nancy very much.” He paused to search for the right words. “She’s the only girl who’s ever cared for me.”

“Oh, I’m sure others—“

“I mean,” he interrupted her, “she’s the only one who thought — who took me seriously as — you know, as someone you might want to love and — maybe — spend the rest of your life with. And I do, I do want to spend the rest of my life with her.” Vernon paused. “But not starting right now.”

“She’s pregnant.”

“Yes.”

“And it’s your baby.”

“If we get married right now.” His eyes strayed out the window. “I’d have to take fewer classes so I could work.”

“But you can’t take less than twelve hours or—“

“Or I’ll be drafted and sent to Vietnam,” he finished her sentence. A grimace darkened his face. “I don’t want to go to Vietnam. I’m afraid I’ll die there.” Vernon put his head down into the palms of his hands and cried.

Lucinda’s impulse was to go to him and put her arms around him, but she restrained herself, remembering the previous incident. “Vernon, Vernon, that’s all right.”

“I don’t know what to do.” He shook his head.

“There, there.” She thought if she continued to sit there she would begin to cry herself.

“Damn. Only babies cry,” he chided under his breath.

“Are you sure? Sometimes girls think they’re pregnant and they’re really not.”

“It’s for real.” He nodded, now staring at the floor. “She went to the doctor today.”

Without thinking about what she was doing, Lucinda stood to go to the chalk board and wrote the word “parents” as though she were about to parse a sentence. “How about your parents? Do you think they would help out enough to allow you to maintain a full class load?”

“My old man?” Vernon snorted. “You must be kidding.”

“Her parents?” She began to add those words to her list.

“They don’t have any money to spare.” He shrugged. “They’re as poor as we are.”

“Or least that’s what she says.” Her hand holding the chalk stayed motionless.

“Yeah.” Sniffing, Vernon sat up straight and looked at Lucinda with an incredulous glare. “That’s not a very nice thing to say.”

She turned back to Vernon, rolling the chalk between her hands. “I don’t know how to say this without hurting your feelings, Vernon, but Nancy isn’t as nice as you think.”

“What do you mean?” He took a handkerchief out and wiped his eyes.

Lincoln in the Basement Chapter One Hundred Two

Previously: Stanton holds the Lincolns and janitor Gabby captive in the White House basement. Private Adam Christy takes guard duties. After two years of deceit, love and death, the war is over. Stanton forces Adam into a final conspiracy. Duff holds his last cabinet meeting posing as the president. Duff and Alethia leave on their last carriage ride, never to return.
Stepping inside the Executive Mansion service door, Adam slumped against the kitchen wall as he tried to comprehend what was going to happen to the very amiable couple he had known for the last two-and-a-half years. They had been kind to him, and now he mourned their imminent deaths. Adam shook off his melancholia so he could walk into the billiards room with a smile to help the Lincolns move their possessions back upstairs.
“Praise the Lord. No more chamber pots,” Mrs. Lincoln said in exultation as she finished packing. “Please take down my French lace curtains, Private Christy.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Who knows what that other woman has done to my room and my finest dresses.”
Adam stiffened momentarily, and he noticed that she had noticed.
“I know.” She touched his arm. “I’m sure she was a very nice lady. And he was a fine gentleman.” Mrs. Lincoln smiled. “Remember, I’m from Kentucky, and we Southern belles must always fuss about something.”
“Molly, time to go,” Lincoln announced.
“Father, we should say good-bye to Mr. Gabby.”
“Of course.”
Turning the corner of the stack of crates and barrels, Adam and the Lincolns found Gabby lying face down on his pallet.
“Mr. Gabby?” Lincoln asked.
“Go away. I’m sad.”
“There’s no need to be sad, Mr. Gabby,” Mrs. Lincoln assured him. “We all can go back to our normal lives.”
“Cordie’s dead. Life can’t be normal without Cordie.”
“As sad as it seems, you will go on without Cordie,” Lincoln added. “You will survive, or you too will die. And I don’t think your sister would want that to happen.”
Mrs. Lincoln gazed up devotedly at her husband, Adam observed, and he had to turn away because the same fate awaited her tonight. She would lose her husband and would have to struggle to survive, just as Gabby was struggling, and just as he was struggling with Jessie’s death. Like Lincoln said, he would learn to live with the grief or allow the grief to kill him.
Kneeling beside Gabby, Mrs. Lincoln patted his shoulder and said, “If all this is too much for you, feel free to stay here a few more days. We won’t mind.”
When he did not respond, Mrs. Lincoln stood to leave. Adam followed them as they went up the service stairs. On the second floor, Tad bounded from his room to fly into his mother’s arms.
“Mama! Papa!” Tad yelled. In a quieter voice he added, “I’m glad you’re back!”
As she caressed his tousled brown hair, Mrs. Lincoln whispered, “I can tell you’ve grown. The woman was good to you.”
“Mrs. Mama was great. And Mr. Papa.” His face darkened a moment. “I hope you don’t mind that I liked them.”
Reaching to touch Tad’s shoulder, Lincoln replied, “No, I’m glad they took good care of you.”
Again, knowing Lincoln was to be assassinated tonight, Adam had to turn his head away so they could not see his eyes clouded with guilt. He knew how it hurt a child to lose a parent. No one would comfort him. No one would listen to him when he said his heart ached. He shook his head. Much more of this emotion, Adam warned himself, and he would go mad.
“Let’s play games tonight!” Tad beamed.
“We can’t, dear,” Mrs. Lincoln replied. “Mr. Stanton arranged for us to go the theater to see Miss Laura Keene’s farewell performance.”
“Oh, him.” Tad pulled away from his mother. “Don’t go. I don’t trust him.” He went to his father. “Stay home with me and play games. Then send for that old Mr. Stanton to come here at midnight in his nightshirt. And fire him, right there at midnight in his nightshirt.”
Breathing deeply, Adam bit his lip in hopes that Lincoln would do exactly what his son asked. He could save his own life by removing Stanton from all power. His heart raced. The thought of Lincoln firing the war secretary gave him hope again.
“No, son, we have to go.”
Tad fell against his father’s flat belly and sighed.
“That’s all right.” Mrs. Lincoln turned to her bedroom. “The public expects us to attend. I wonder if I have anything decent to wear.”
“Papa?”
“Your mama hasn’t been out in one of her fancy dresses in a long time. I can’t deny her.”
“Mr. Papa had a softer belly than you.” Tad leaned against his father. “But he had a soft heart like you.” He looked up to smile. “Tell Mama she has to tell me all about the play tomorrow.”
Adam watched Tad walk back to his room and, as he shut the door, Adam felt his hope die a second time. Another door swung open, causing Adam and Lincoln to turn their heads. Mrs. Lincoln looked radiant, holding a white dress with little pink flowers.
“I found it in the back of the armoire,” she said with delight. “Mrs. Keckley brought it the last week we were here. I never wore it, being in mourning. I’m sure it still fits.” Her tiny fingers ran across the top. “I know it’s rather low-cut, and shows a modest décolletage, but I feel like celebrating.”
“Then celebrate.” Lincoln smiled at her. “By the way, Tad wants you to tell him about the play tomorrow morning.”
“Oh, I’m going to sleep until noon tomorrow.” She paused. “Isn’t it odd that in the basement, when I could sleep all day, I awoke early? And you, Father, who usually rise early, slept all day. Perhaps this means we’re going to be normal again.”
“Yes, normal again,” Lincoln echoed in melancholia.
After she went into her room to dress, Lincoln looked at Adam, who sensed the president had noticed his troubled eyes.
“Don’t worry,” Lincoln assured him. “I don’t blame you.” He turned to his bedroom. “Come with me.” After they entered the bedroom, Lincoln went to his armoire. “I’m not changing suits. I just want my good hat and overcoat.” Putting on the overcoat first, Lincoln looked startled by how large it was on him. “This must belong to the other man. He was larger than me. A dubious distinction, indeed.” He looked at Adam. “Did he really fool everyone?”
“I don’t know.” Adam averted his eyes. “I think he fooled some. Stanton intimidated others into not noticing. A few chose to see only what they wanted to see.”
“He was a good man. He treated my son well.” Lincoln returned his attention to the coat. “This will be a giveaway.” He tossed it on the bed. “I doubt he’ll be back to reclaim it.”
“No, he won’t,” Adam replied in a subdued tone.
“How did this happen?” Lincoln pulled out a worn stovepipe hat and stuck his finger through a hole.
“The man narrowly missed an assassin’s bullet last summer while riding,” Adam explained.
“Mrs. Lincoln would disapprove if I wore that.” He put the hat by the large coat and sat on the bed, motioning to Adam to join him. “You see, when I undertook the labor of running for president and thereby setting in motion the machinery of this war, I knew I’d have to pay the ultimate price for doing the horrible job that had to be done.” He leaned toward Adam to whisper, “Thank you for not saying anything to Molly. Let her have these last few hours of happiness.”
“See, I didn’t gain a pound in that wretched basement.” Mrs. Lincoln appeared, preening in her new white dress.
A knock at the door made Adam jump.
“Your carriage has arrived, Mr. President,” Tom Pendel announced.
“Are you going with us tonight, Private Christy?” Mrs. Lincoln asked.
“No, ma’am. I leave tonight.”
“Nonsense,” she replied. “We’ve no ill will against you. In fact, I’ve grown quite accustomed to you. I’d hate to break in a new adjutant.”
Lincoln looked back and forth between his wife and Adam.
“I do believe, Molly, that this young man has a hankering to go home to Ohio, even though it might cause you personal distress.”
“Oh. Of course. I hadn’t thought of that.”
Pendel knocked again.
“We must be on our way, Mother.” Lincoln retrieved his other overcoat and hat from the armoire.
“Good night, Mr. Pendel,” Lincoln said.
“Good night, sir; madam.”
After they walked down the grand staircase, President and Mrs. Lincoln and Adam went out the door. Adam was taken aback to see the front door guard John Parker standing by the awaiting carriage, already in the early stages of inebriation.
“I don’t like that man,” Mrs. Lincoln whispered to her husband. “He always reeks of whiskey.” She looked up at the cloudy, dark sky. “Oh, dear, it’s raining. My white dress will be ruined by the end of the evening.”
“Think happy thoughts, Mother,” Lincoln said. “The world turns on more than muddy dresses.”
They settled into the carriage while Parker staggered to his seat next to the driver. The Lincolns looked back at Adam.
“Good night, Private Christy,” Mrs. Lincoln chirped.
“Good-bye, young man.”

A Word from the Author

I hope all of you are enjoying reading my stories. Just a reminder that I have a picture of my Storytelling Fund basket off to the side. If anyone would like to make a small contribution to defray the costs of the website I would be very grateful. Everyone have a happy summer!