Night Journey (15 page)

Tyme nodded, flicked out her smoke, and parked the car near the curb. The women climbed out and they strode into the building. Ivy adjusted her eyes to the dim room and walked up to the skinny, bald-headed man behind the counter.

“Yes’m. May I he’p you?” His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down in a comical way as he spoke. He grinned broadly when he saw Tyme. “Afternoon, Miz Renfro.”

“Afternoon to you, too, Darlin’,” purred Tyme. “Please call me by my first name. It’s pronounced Tie-mee. Okay?”

“Yes’m, M-Miz Ren—I mean T-T-T…”

Ivy interrupted the clerk’s stammering and unfolded a piece of paper. “I’d like to send a message to this address.”

“M-hm,” he composed himself and held the paper at arm’s length, scanning the address through his thick, bi-focal lenses. He plucked a pencil from behind his ear and asked, “Whatcha’ want it to say?”

“I’d like it to say ‘No more flowers please—stop—developed allergies—stop—sick in bed—stop.’” Ivy giggled and Tyme roared with laughter.

The thin man quirked his brow and shook his head at the laughing women. “That it?”

“Yes, that’s all. Thank you.” Ivy fanned herself and tried to catch her breath from all the laughing. She reached into her bag and handed the man some money.

He gave Ivy her change and said, “Here you go, Miss. Nice to see you T-T-T…” but he couldn’t manage to get it out.

“You really mean business, don’t you?” Tyme laughed as she started up the car and yelled. “Hey, Jared—twenty-three skidoo!”

Ivy felt liberated. She smiled as she imagined Jared’s face when he got the telegram. He would be furious. She hoped he would get the message to back off.

Tyme drove the car into an alley behind a red brick storefront building and parked inside a rickety old garage. She unlocked the back door of the Renfro Dry Goods Store and they went upstairs. Ivy walked around the parlor gathering up the various containers of roses that had been delivered in the week since she’d arrived. She dumped them all into a garbage can and then dusted her hands together.

“Beaulah the florist is sure gonna be disappointed,” remarked Tyme. She sat on the high-backed sofa and crossed her legs.

“Oh, well. She’ll get over it. There are a lot of nice vases here. Maybe you can use them in the store.”

“You’re gonna break that poor fella’s heart, you mean thing.”

“I don’t care.” Ivy flopped down in a wingback chair and closed her eyes. “Papa’s the one who’s so crazy about him. Too bad
he
can’t marry him.”

Tyme giggled. “So what’s the problem with Jared? Is he cross-eyed and hare-lipped?”

“No.” Ivy laughed. “He’s actually very handsome. Some people say he looks like Errol Flynn.”

“Oooh.”

“Yes, and he’s filthy rich. That’s what Papa loves about him.”

Tyme lit another cigarette. “So what’s the problem?”

Ivy thought for a moment before she answered. “Lots of things. He’s unscrupulous in his business dealings and I’m not happy with the way he made his money.” She sat forward and searched her aunt’s face. “But the main thing is the way he makes me feel—as if I’m just one of his trophies.”

“Trophies?” Tyme exhaled a cloud of smoke that wafted slowly around the apartment.

“He’s a big-game hunter. He’s got these animal heads hanging all over the walls of his den.” Ivy shuddered. “He keeps telling me he loves me, but I don’t really believe it. Sometimes I feel like if he ever really catches me, I’ll just be another one of those heads on the wall.”

“That’s pretty severe,” Tyme reached over and squeezed Ivy’s hand. “Whatever you do, don’t let your guard down. Follow your instincts. If you don’t love him, then for God’s sake, don’t marry him.”

“What about you, Tyme? Are you lonely since Chauncey’s been gone? Do you miss him a lot?”

Tyme snorted. “I just wish he would go the hell away.”

Ivy tilted her head, confused. “What’re you talking about?”

“Oh, it’s nothing.” Tyme shrugged dismissively and re-crossed her legs. “Forget I said anything.”

“No, Tyme. I will
not
forget it.” Ivy leaned forward and searched her aunt’s face. “What do you mean about him not going away? He’s dead, isn’t he?”

“Hm.” Tyme frowned and looked down, her right foot swinging nervously.

“Now you’re being just like Papa.” Ivy scowled at her aunt. “Don’t treat me like a child. He always tries to brush me off just like that whenever he thinks I’m too delicate to know something.”

Tyme raised her head, stared sadly at Ivy, and sighed. “Sometimes the dead don’t leave.”

Ivy felt a sudden chill and shivered. The air in the parlor felt heavy, as if it were electrically charged. The hairs stood up on the back of her neck. An odd sensation of depression washed over her. She had to fight an overpowering compulsion to jump up and run.

“Tyme, you’re scaring me.” Ivy looked furtively around the room. “Are you trying to tell me Chauncey is a ghost?”

“Do you believe in ghosts?”

“Well, Mama believes in ghosts, but Papa says all her stories are a bunch of claptrap.” Ivy smiled sheepishly. “I’ve never seen one, but I’m getting really scared right now just thinking about it.”

“Oh, sweetie, don’t be scared. I know you’re gonna think I’m crazy, but yes. That is what I meant—and he won’t leave me alone. He’s a lot like that Jared beau of yours.” Tyme grimaced and pointed across the room. “He’s standing over in that corner right now, as we speak.”

Startled, Ivy stared in the direction Tyme pointed. She didn’t see anything, but her heart thumped so hard she thought she would faint. She squealed and covered her face with her hands.

“Humph. He’s gone now. I guess he didn’t like me talking about him, so he left.”

“He’s gone? Are you sure?” Ivy was afraid to look up.

Tyme relaxed and puffed happily on her cigarette. “Um hm. Just feel the difference in the air. It’s so much nicer around here now. He never would allow me to smoke before. I had to sneak around to do it. But now I just do whatever I want to and I don’t care if he sees me or not—you can’t hurt me anymore, Chauncey. To the Devil with you! Ha!”

“Are we safe here?” Ivy’s heart still palpitated and she glanced warily around the room.

“Oh yeah, don’t worry about it,” Tyme waved her hand. “It’s just Chauncey and he can’t do anything to us now. Of course, I didn’t know that at first. Right after he passed on it scared me pretty badly, I can tell you. I’d wake up from a deep sleep and see him standing over me in the bed, just staring. Gave me the heebie-jeebies the first few times he did that.”

“Oh, my God,” Ivy clutched at her throat. “Now I’m really afraid to stay here. What if he comes into my room?”

“Just ignore him, Ivy. That’s all he ever does, just stands around looking sad. I finally talked to some people who know about this sort of thing and they assured me he just hasn’t figured out what he’s supposed to do yet. When he does, he’ll move on and leave me in peace.”

Ivy shivered and warily scanned the room. “You’re still scaring me. Was he cruel to you?”

“Kid, you don’t know the half of it.” Ivy frowned and took another drag on her cigarette. “He acted all proper and
holier-than-thou
in public, but he didn’t think twice about knocking me across the room if the notion hit him. The church doors were never opened without him and I passing through ‘em, but you know what’s funny? I haven’t been back to church since the funeral!”

“That’s terrible,” said Ivy. “Papa always talked about what a good and righteous man Chauncey was. Wasn’t he all upset when they repealed Prohibition?”

“Oh, yes,” Tyme smiled and nodded. “The ol’ Volstead Act was his bread ‘n’butter. I didn’t know it until long after we got married, but he ran a couple of speakos here in town. He was the bootleggers’ best friend. Repeal cut way down on his business.”

“Aunt Tyme, I’m really frightened,” Ivy felt like crying, but she certainly didn’t want to go up to that hospital and stay with her mother. What was she going to do?

“Oh, it’s okay, sweetie. I promise, if he bothers you I’ll kick his ass right out of here—pardon my French—I used to be a Flapper and it’s all comin’ back to me.” Tyme flicked her ashes into a Mason jar lid. “But he’s not the only spirit here, you know. There’s a woman and two little children downstairs in the store.”

“Really?”

“Um hm. They’re real sweet and don’t cause any trouble. The kids’ll throw stuff around a little, but the mother always picks up after ‘em. You’ll find it’s no big deal in this town.” Tyme stubbed out her cigarette and stood up. “There’s something about Eureka Springs that attracts ghosts. I’m not sure why, but just about everybody in this town has
extra guests
in their homes—say, I just had an idea. Come on.”

Tyme reached for Ivy’s hand and pulled her down the stairs. Ivy scanned the darkened store for ghosts. Shadows in the corners played with her imagination and a dressmaker’s dummy in a window display startled her. Tyme rummaged around underneath a display case and pulled out a box.

“Here we go. What do you think of this?” Tyme pulled an evening gown from a bed of tissue paper and shook it out to its full length.

The dress took Ivy’s breath away. It was long, slinky, and sleeveless. Cut low in the front as well as in the back, it was constructed of copper-colored silk, with scalloped, shimmering fringe from bosom to toe. She’d never seen anything so beautiful.

“It’s lovely.” Ivy knew this humble description didn’t do the dress justice.

“The color’s called
parisand
—although everybody around here just calls it copper. It’s the latest rage.” Tyme held the dress toward Ivy. “Here—it’s yours.”

“Oh no, I could never accept anything like this.”

“Sure you can, kiddo.” Tyme smiled and her eyes lit up. “You’re gonna need it, ‘cause you and I are going dancing!”

“Hold still now— almost got it.”

Ivy squinched her eyes, held her breath and tried not to move as she endured the painful process. Her fingernails dug into her palms in anticipation of the next assault. She had no idea it would hurt so badly. How did anybody ever get used to plucking one’s eyebrows?

“Please don’t make them look like my mother’s,” Ivy begged. She opened one eye and peeked at her aunt.

“Silly girl. I’m not gonna pluck ‘em all.” Tyme jerked one more time with the tweezers.

“Ouch!” Ivy furiously rubbed her stinging forehead and turned toward the mirror, surprised no blood ran down her face.

“See, just a nice slender arch. All I did was get rid of those wild-growing hairs. You don’t look so much like a terrier anymore.”

“Thanks for the compliment—I guess.”

“You’re welcome.” Tyme smiled and placed a Princess Pat cosmetics kit on the dresser. “Okay, you’re going to need lipstick, powder, rouge, mascara….”

“Oh, I’ve never worn mascara before—or rouge. Papa always said it makes a woman look fast.”

“Well, we’re gonna be doin’ some fast dancing tonight, so you need it.” Tyme handed the mascara to Ivy. “I’ll show you how to do the eye shadow and liner, too.”

When Ivy looked in the mirror, she was amazed at the transformation in herself as well as in her aunt. For the first time in her life she felt all grown up and beautiful. And Tyme was a complete knockout, with the carefully applied makeup and her newly bleached platinum blond Marcel waves.

“Nobody’s gonna recognize the Widder Renfro,” said Ivy. “They’ll just think a movie star has come to town.”

“Um hm, and with her young protégé starlet by her side. All right, we’re gonna try you with an up-do, since you’ve got that beautiful shoulder-length hair.” Tyme worked skillfully and soon Ivy’s red-brown hair was swept up in an exotic twist, crowned with a little mass of ringlets.

The dress fit perfectly after only a few minor alterations. Ivy laughed as she twisted from side to side before the mirror. The gleaming fringe shook and shimmied with every move. Her eyes lit up when Tyme showed her the strappy high-heeled shoes and the long, satin gloves that would complete the elegant ensemble.

“One more thing.” Tyme pinned in place a tiny feathered doll’s hat with a short net veil that brushed Ivy’s forehead, yet showcased her curls. “Now I’m going to get dressed.”

Ivy squealed with delight when Tyme emerged from behind the dressing screen. The bias-cut satin gown clung to her curves, rippling in shiny black waves with every move she made. She pulled on her evening gloves, stuck one slender, silk-clad leg through the daring slit in the skirt and struck a pose.

“Whadda ya think?”

“May I have your autograph, Miss Harlow?”

Tyme’s face crumpled slightly. “Poor thing. I can’t believe it’s already been a year since she died. She was my favorite.”

“Mine too. So sad.”

“Well, are you ready to go have some fun?” asked Tyme.

“I think so.” Ivy’s heart fluttered nervously. “Where did you say we were going?”

“The Independence Day Ball. They always hold it on the Saturday night before July fourth,” replied Tyme. She adjusted her bosoms in the halter-top of the daringly backless evening gown and turned sideways to look in the mirror. “I’ve wanted to go for years, but Chauncey never would take me. He was more of a Blue Grass and jug band type of guy.”

“Is he still hanging around?” Ivy glanced around the room. There hadn’t been any more signs of Chauncey’s ghost since last evening. She’d decided not to be scared of him unless he gave her a reason.

“Oh, I’m sure he’s around here someplace watching from the wings. But I intend to ignore him until he just gives up completely and goes wherever it is he’s supposed to go—and I seriously doubt that it’ll be up.”

Ivy giggled and searched through her jewelry box. She pulled out a pearl choker, and held it up to her neck. “How’s this?”

“Perfect. Turn around. I’ll help you fasten it.”

“Why on earth did you marry him?”

Tyme appeared sad before she answered. “Oh, Ivy. It was a different world back then.” She sighed, sat down at the dressing table and picked up a powder puff. “You just can’t imagine what it was like.”

“Please tell me.”

Tyme smiled. “I hope Chauncey doesn’t start throwing things.”

“Me too.” Ivy shuddered and glanced around the room. “I thought you said all he did was stand around?”

“Well, one time soon after I first started seeing him, I was sitting here smoking. I think he got mad at me ‘cause I was using his favorite shaving mug for an ashtray. It just went sliding off the table all by itself. Boy, was I startled!”

“Oh, my goodness. I would just die if he did something like that now.”

Tyme waved her hand in dismissal. “Nah. He has to use up a lot of energy to move things. Stuff like that wears ‘em out. I didn’t hear a peep out of him for a couple of weeks after that. It was a really nice respite.”

“Okay,” said Ivy. She tried to ignore her quickened pulse. “Now tell me your story.”

Tyme relaxed and appeared thoughtful before she began. “I came of age in the twenties, and people were pretty free-wheeling in those days. Ya know what I mean?”

Ivy nodded. “I was small, but I remember. Papa always called it the
decade of debauchery
.”

“Well, he wasn’t too far off.” Tyme powdered her nose and then pulled out a cigarette. “You know, I’m not that much older than you—only nine years. But compared to our experiences, it might as well be a hundred.”

“I know. Papa has been very protective.”

“Yes, and he’s right to be—up to a point.” Tyme lit her cigarette and took a long drag. “I’m just afraid he’s repeating the same mistakes with you that he did with me.”

“What’s Papa got to do with you? He’s your brother, not your father.”

“Let me tell you the whole story. Then you’ll understand.” Tyme looked pensive before she continued. “As I said before, everything was very different when I was your age. We thought we had the world by the tail. Daddy was rich then, and getting richer every day.”

“I thought Grandfather stayed solvent after the market crashed?”

“Oh, he did. Daddy was very conservative and he didn’t have everything tied up in the stock market. He didn’t go in for the get-rich-quick schemes and lose his shirt like Caleb.”

“
My
father?”

“Um hm,” Tyme nodded and took another puff. “Daddy had to bail him out of debt more than once. And me—I just went completely wild before the bottom dropped out of everything. I think that’s what killed your grandfather so young—his children broke his heart.” Her voice cracked.

“Tyme, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

“No.” Tyme held up her hand. “I need to tell someone. It’s been eating at me for years.”

“Okay.” Ivy settled into a chair.

“Like I said before, I went totally wild. I was a real
Jazz Baby
. Dropped out of school, started drinking and smoking, and spent my time at parties just about every night. I lived to party. Nobody could tell me what to do.”

“What did Papa and Grandfather do?”

“Oh, they tried their best to get me to behave. Your father was so much older than me; he thought he could control me. But he couldn’t.” Tyme’s eyes teared and she tapped out her ashes. “Nobody could—until Walter.”

“Walter?” Ivy felt a slight chill in the air and shivered.

“Um hm. Walter Montgomery. I fell hard for him.” Tyme wiped away a stray tear. “He was from old money back East. Your grandfather and Caleb thought he was the answer to their prayers.”

“He wasn’t?”

“He might have been under different circumstances.” Tyme sniffed and looked in the mirror. “Oh, damn. My mascara’s running.”

“You can’t leave me hanging now,” begged Ivy. “Please finish the story.”

“Sorry about that, kid.” Tyme dabbed at the black streaks on her cheek and continued her story. “He was so sweet and good looking and I loved him dearly. He had this beautiful Stutz Bearcat we used to rip around in. God, we had fun.”

“Did you break up with him?”

“No. Actually, we were engaged to be married.” Tyme’s hand shook and she stared into the distance. “Your father and grandfather were ecstatic. Everybody started planning the wedding.”

“What happened?”

“Apparently, his father had laid down the law to him to be frugal. But frugal wasn’t our style.” Tyme noticed the ashes growing long and flicked them out. “Walter didn’t tell me that his wild ways had just about ruined his father, even before the market crash. He gambled a lot, and played the stock market on margin. He just wasn’t prepared for the consequences, since there was nowhere for him to land.”

“You don’t mean…”

Tyme nodded solemnly. “I’ll never forget…it was a cold November day in 1929….his best friend found him…gunshot wound to the head…the official death certificate called it an accident, but I know better…he was so despondent…I know he took his own life.”

“Oh, Tyme. I’m so sorry.”

“That’s not all of it.” Tyme wiped away another tear. “Soon after Walter’s funeral I discovered I was
in the family way
.”

“No!”

“Yep. Well, you can just imagine the reaction.” Tyme grimaced. “Daddy kinda wilted and Caleb went berserk.”

“So he set you up with Chauncey?”

“You got it. He found someone in a remote area with the right financial ties that would be willing to take on a soiled bride. So I married him.” Tyme shrugged. “What other choice did I have?”

“What about the baby?” asked Ivy. The air felt heavy and she thought she detected a slight vibration from the cosmetics scattered across the dresser. A tube of lipstick rolled across the surface of the dresser.

“Oh, it only took a few of Chauncey’s beatings before that was all history.” Tyme hung her head.

“You poor, poor thing. Thank goodness you didn’t have any children with that monster.” Ivy embraced her aunt and shivered. The room grew increasingly chilly.

“Humph. There wasn’t much chance of that. I think that’s why he was so mean. He couldn’t be a man when it really counted.”

The room temperature plummeted and Tyme’s powder jar suddenly went flying across the room. It banged against a chair and scattered its contents on the Oriental rug. Both women jumped in fright, but Tyme recovered quickly. An expression of amusement spread across her face.

Horrified, Ivy searched the room, preparing to run. “Oh, my God! What was that? Was that Chauncey?”

Tyme laughed and slapped her knee. “He’s having a tantrum because he doesn’t like to hear the truth. You shouldn’t have given him the idea.”

“Tyme, I’m really scared now,” said Ivy, her eyes wild with fright. “Maybe he
can
hurt us.”

“No, kiddo, no. Don’t let him get the best of you. That’s what he wants us to think.” Tyme patted Ivy on the shoulder. “He’s probably used up so much energy with that stunt we won’t hear from him again for a month.”

“Are you sure?

“I’m sure.” Tyme reached for her car keys and stood up. “Come on. Let’s go. We can clean up later. I’m tired of this mausoleum.”
Harry Fuller fidgeted with the stiff starched collar of his shirt and tried not to think about how much the new clothes had set him back. For the first time in his life he had money in his pocket that wasn’t already earmarked for the care and feeding of some other family member. This new, carefree lifestyle would take some getting used to.

He followed his friend Clyde up the front steps of the building, reached up, and carefully removed his new straw hat. The crisp, clean brim felt strange to his calloused fingers. He smoothed the sleeves of his suit jacket and looked down to make sure the cuffs of his pants were straight. A tingling sense of excitement coursed through his body. What did he expect to find here tonight?

Clyde McKinney’s eyes lit up at the sights and sounds of the dance. He practically bounced with enthusiasm. “Come on, Harry. Let’s get in there before all the best dames’r taken.”

Harry laughed and followed his buddy into the gymnasium. He stood and stared. He’d never been to a party like this. Tiny white lights strung from the rafters transformed the drafty old room into a warm, glowing fairyland and tables covered with white linen encircled the perimeter. A thick cloud of smoke hung in the air and red glowing embers from dozens of cigarettes lit up the room. People were everywhere, dancing and drinking and clapping for the band on the stage.

Three guys on trumpet and another on trombone set the place afire with their jazzy swing style, then stepped aside and waited while a little man with a huge smile twirled and strummed an upright base in a tempo so seductive, even Harry felt like dancing. The music’s beat grabbed him, exhilarated him, and temporarily banished his anxieties.

“There’s one over there.” Harry pointed to a table in the farthest corner.

“Nah.” Clyde shook his head and made for a table near the door. “Ya cain’t see the dolls from way over there. Let’s take this one.”

Harry and Clyde staked their claim at the table and glanced around. The music changed to a slow, dreamy rhythm and couples crowded the dance floor, vying for a place beneath one of the spotlights. A thin man with a bow tie and slick-backed hair stepped up to the microphone and began crooning
I’m in the Mood for Love
.

“What’ll ya have, fellas?” A pretty blonde waitress wearing a frilly apron over her uniform appeared. She put her hand on her hip, chewed her gum and held her pad and pencil while she waited for their order.

“We’ll both have a beer,” Clyde volunteered. “We’re celebratin’.”

“Oh, yeah?” She smiled, put her pencil behind her ear, and switched her hand to the other hip. “Whatcha celebratin?”

“My friend here just got hisself a big promotion,” said Clyde.

“Issat right?” She smiled seductively at Harry through lowered lashes. “What line a work are ya in?”

“Um, CCC, ma’am.”

“Yes’m, Harry just got promoted to full-fledged leader,” Clyde announced proudly.

The waitress looked disappointed. “Well, congratulations. I’ll bring your beers.”

“See how easy it is?” Clyde ran his big, work-roughened hand through his curly mop of hair and then rolled a cigarette. “She likes you.”

“She does not.” Harry tugged at his collar, wishing he could get rid of the blasted tie that choked him. “As soon as she heard me say CCC she turned into an icicle.”

“Well, you ain’t got nothin’ to be ashamed about. Me and my ma woulda starved if’n Mr. Roosevelt hadn’ta done something. Gets mighty old livin’ in them Hoovervilles and bein’ a hobo.” Clyde bristled when he realized what Harry meant. “She’s just a gold-digger out to find her some rich guy. We don’t need some floozy like her who don’t appreciate the Civilian Conservation Corp.”

The waitress returned with two bottles of Schlitz. “It’s on me.” Harry laid down a quarter. “Keep the change.” The waitress sniffed, scooped up the coin, and walked away, her hips swinging.