Authors: Carolyn Brown
There's no better place to get lost than in the midst of
a huge family. Everyone is busy. No one takes notice of
who's staying around for a whole conversation or moving from group to group. A few words here. A couple
of sentences there. A quiet corner to watch the people.
A bit of strategy to keep out of the way. A nod here. A
smile there. Everyone visited with Clara, yet no one
had really gotten to know the lovely lady Briar had
hired to watch Libby.
Clara caught bits of conversation as she moved
around through the people. In the kitchen, women
fussed around a huge three-tiered cake, which would be
decorated the next day with the marigolds, zinnias and
the last few yellow roses of summer. Giggles sounded
through the air as children ran through crispy fall leaves. Several men tuned up fiddles, guitars and banjoes under a shade tree where the wedding would take
place. Sounds of pounding hammers hitting nails rang
out as another group of men worked on a dancing stage
for the party after the wedding. The aroma of roasting
pork wafted across the whole area. Sweet smells of
baking bread floating through the open kitchen windows. It was as if an entire village had come to Briar's
farm: the butcher, the baker and the musicians.
Clara meandered through the kitchen and up the
stairs. She leaned against the doorframe leading into
the Judith's room. Several women had their needles
out, attempting to alter the wedding dress, laid out in all
its glory on the bed. It was a gorgeous creation of silk
crepe de chine over net, with a yoke and sleeves of richly embroidered heavy Oriental lace and silk messaline
ruching. Small silk and velvet rosebuds complimented
the yoke and waistline, which was roped down with a
velvet girdle held in place with rhinestone buckles.
Their job was to cinch in the girdle to fit Judith's
smaller-than-normal waist. Clara went on into the room
and fingered the soft full skirt, made by pulling the hem
up with larger rosebuds, letting the accordion-plaited
silk crepe slip peek out at the bottom. It was the sort of
thing she would have chosen if she'd been the one getting married. Not a full lace wedding gown, but something elegant and mature. A tear formed at the back of
Clara's eyelids, but she forced it away before it could drip down her cheek. She wouldn't be jealous and she
wouldn't begrudge Judith her happiness, either.
"Clara, voice your opinion. Do we cut the velvet
right here and tuck the ends in so that the seam doesn't
show?" one of the women asked.
Clara shook her head. "I'm not the seamstress. I do
well to stitch up aprons and hem tea towels. You'd better
ask someone a lot more adept with a needle than I am"
Judith threw her arm around Clara's shoulder and
drew her deeper into the room. "Oh, I bet you're just
being modest. I know there's one thing Clara does
beautifully, and that is play the piano. Will you play for
the ceremony, please?"
"Who told you that I play?" Clara's cheeks slowly
turned crimson.
`Briar did. Said he could have listened to you all day.
Will you play? I should have asked before now, but I
forgot. Just the traditional wedding song and maybe
some soft music for half an hour before the wedding?
Please?"
"Of course. Where are you going to put the piano?"
"On the front porch. The menfolks are going to lug
it out there for me. I told them they'd better recruit a
bunch because if they knock it out of tune, I'll pitch a
fit," Judith said seriously. "And thank you, Clara. I'm
hoping you can interest Libby in playing. I tried about
six months ago, but she was just too young"
"I'll try. I didn't take lessons until I was five, so maybe she'll be more receptive to the idea after her
next birthday." Clara smiled.
One of the needle-toting women motioned to Judith.
"Now, come here one more time and let me measure
your waist. Lord, I'd give half my husband's paycheck
every week for a waist this small"
"Darlin', I'd give half of Cecil's paycheck for those
four kids you've already got, and you are six years
younger than I am," Judith told her.
Clara slipped out the door and meandered down the
stairs, taking in the pictures down the staircase. Family
photos. Dozens of them.
"I didn't want Libby to grow up thinking she didn't
have family, so through the years they've kept me in
pictures," Briar said from a bedroom doorway where
he'd watched her for several minutes.
"Then come and tell me about them," Clara said.
"That's my mother and father, taken just before
Daddy died. Far as I know, it's the only one around. My
brother Richard had it and gave it to me. They tried to
keep me in touch with everyone through the years with
letters and pictures." He ran his hand lovingly down the
gold gilt frame holding the picture of a tall man looking right into the camera and a small woman looking
down at a cat in her lap.
"Did your mother live long after your dad died?"
Clara asked.
"Dad died the year after I left home. I was so poor
and broke I couldn't go to the funeral. Didn't even know about it until I got the letter. He was buried before
I knew he had passed. Mother died a month before
Libby was born. My ex-wife wasn't able to travel and
didn't want me to go. They sent a telegram, but I didn't
go home"
Clara could hear the unforgiving remorse in his
voice. "I can see where you get your good looks. Your
father was quite a handsome man"
"Well, thank you, Clara. I've always thought my eyes
were too deeply set and my mouth too firm. At least
that's what ... never mind."
"What was it you told me that night? `Yesterday is
gone and nothing but a memory. Maybe a bad one, but
there's no way to call it back or change it. Tomorrow is
just the whisper of a hope. Today is all you got.' You'd
do well to take your own advice. Why would you listen
to a woman who left her tiny baby and doesn't even
want to see her again?"
"You remembered," he said, amazed.
"Of course I did. I'm not stupid. Besides, it made
perfect sense. I needed to let go of the past. So do you,"
Clara said. "Now, who is this?"
"That would be my oldest brother, Matthew, his
wife, Dora, and their kids back about five years ago.
They've got a couple more now," Briar explained and
started on to the second one.
A little girl a year or two older than Libby came
thundering up the stairs with Libby right behind her.
The first little girl sped past Clara and Briar and went straight into the bedroom where the alterations were
taking place. "Momma, Momma. Momma, can I stay
in Libby's room tonight. Can I, Momma?"
Libby stopped midway up and grabbed Briar's hand.
"Daddy, where's my momma? I want a momma, too.
Tansy has got a daddy and a Judy and a momma and I
want one. Can Clara be my momma?"
"We'll talk about it later," Briar said. "Go on and
play with Tansy"
"Okay," Libby said, and the two of them ran off to
the backyard.
"Sorry," Briar apologized.
"What for? She's just a little girl," Clara said.
"Hey, Briar, we need an opinion on the roasting
pigs," a man called from the back door. "You got time
to come on out here?"
"I'll be right there," Briar hollered, then turned back
to Clara. "Sorry again. I'd like to stay and tell you about
the rest of the pictures."
"You've got duties," she said.
She took time to study each picture on the way down
to the living room, then wandered out onto the far end
of the porch and sat down, letting the aura of family
surround her like a warm blanket on a cold winter
night. Libby came running around the corner of the
house with two other little girls, laughing as they scampered across the lawn. The child had been ecstatic all
day, coming to find Clara periodically like the other
children who went to assure themselves their mothers hadn't disappeared. Clara smiled when she thought
about Libby wanting to know if she could be her
momma.
A woman wiped her hands on a stained apron tail
and claimed a chair beside Clara. "I'm Franny,
Richard's wife. He'd be the middle brother. The seventh child. Six before him. Six after. And you are the
lady who's taking care of Libby now"
"I'm glad to meet you, Franny. Have to admit I'll
never remember everyone's names" Clara tried to fix a
name with the round-faced woman who couldn't be
much older than she was.
"Of course not. It's easier for us. We've met Cecil
and you and Tucker. We only have a handful of new
faces and names to remember. Couldn't expect you to
remember all our names. Not this first time. But we'll be
back now that we know how easy it is to get on a train
and go," Franny said. "And Clara, we're glad you're
keeping Libby. Briar hasn't had an easy life since he left
Kentucky. Had a lucky life, but not an easy one. That's
all I'll say. Woman doesn't need another woman to pry"
..Pry?"
"About you and Briar?" Franny winked.
"There is no me and Briar. I just keep Libby." Clara
blushed again.
"I see. Well, guess I'd best get on back in the kitchen.
We talked the men into putting a couple of pigs into the
pit for supper, but us women have to fix the rest of the
vittles," Franny said.
"How do you do it? Fix for so many?" Clara asked.
"We're used to it. After church on Sunday, we all go
back to Junior's for dinner and the afternoon. Used to
be Momma's house. Habits are hard to break. We
missed Briar when he left, and Judith, too. They'd be
the only two of us who didn't settle right there in
Kentucky. It's good to have us all together. Briar even
said he'd come back home maybe next year," Franny
said.
"Oh?"
"He left before his sixteenth birthday. Got crossways
with Janey Jones and, besides, he hated the mines.
Hasn't been back. Guess he's got over Janey and the
mines ain't a threat to him no more. We are so glad you
came out today. Judith told us all about you last night."
"Thanks, Franny," Clara said
The lady went back inside to work with the other
women in the kitchen, a place foreign to Clara.
It seemed like all the women cooked and sewed and
took care of children. It was hard to know which kids
went with which parents. Clara was reminded of what
Granny Anderson had said about it taking a village to
raise children. Well, the Nelsons certainly proved that
even if none of them were Indian. She wondered what
they'd all think if they knew Granny Anderson was a
quarter Cherokee? Somehow she couldn't see it making a bit of difference to any of them.
So Judith had told them about her, and Briar had mentioned that she played the piano. That sure didn't create anything that a woman could pry about, now did it? It was
the wedding fever attacking everyone in sight. They were
finally seeing Judith happy and settling down, and they'd
like to make the same pretty little nest for Briar. Only it
would have to be feathered with someone other than
Clara Anderson because she and Briar could never have
a relationship. No matter what he said, he was much too
important to be saddled with Healdton's odd old maid.
Briar settled into the chair Franny had left behind.
"What are you thinking about?"
"How on earth I'm supposed to remember everyone's name. Among other things," Clara said seriously.
"What other things?" he asked.
"About the past and the future and things too heavy
for this glorious day. The only family I ever had was
Tilly and Tucker and their parents. Granny Anderson
came from a big family but they never came around.
Didn't like Grandpa. He was an outspoken old codger
and had an opinion about everything. He sure didn't
like hearing that he got his start from Granny's land
and her moonshine," she said.
"You mean Tucker's ranch, The Evening Star, was
your grandmother's land?"
"Yes, it surely was, and the stills were hers too and
Grandpa was a proud man."
He changed the subject. "So you like all this noise
and confusion?"
"Love it. It's what I've always wanted and never can
have," she said honestly.
He raised a dark eyebrow. "Oh?"
"I'm looking thirty in the face, right up close and
personal. A lady doesn't normally tell her age, but
that's the truth, and it's a little late to get a jump start
on a big family now," she told him.
"I see," he nodded. "Well, I'm glad you're enjoying
the day. I was afraid you'd be bored to tears and ready
to flee at the first chance when Libby insisted you come
out here today"
"Not me. I'm going to take in the whole day and
make memories to think on for years," she said.
"Hey, Briar, come and listen to this song. See if you
like it for the first dance after the weddin'," a nephew
called from the shade of an enormous pecan tree.
"Go on," she shooed him away. "It's your family.
I'm able to take care of myself. You don't have to
entertain me."
Briar would have gladly strangled the nephew.
Late that evening, after enough food to feed a small
army had been consumed and songs for the first dance
had been decided upon, Briar insisted that he drive
Clara home. Tucker had offered, but he was still helping build the dance stage and nothing doing but he stay
and finish, even if it was by the light of the full moon.
They rode in silence until they reached the Morning
Glory Inn. The living room light had been left on, but
the rest of the house was dark.
"What time is it?" Clara asked. Surely it wasn't late.
She'd been talking to Franny again after supper about the people in the pictures and trying to at least put faces
and names together for Brain's brothers and sisters.
That was her goal. Simply to remember the original
thirteen children's names. To remember all the nieces
and nephews would be impossible. But it couldn't be
much past 8:00, if that late.
He pulled his pocket watch from the bib of his worn,
soft overalls. "Ten-thirty."