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"No. He just told me how old he was."
"Good. Good," she repeated with relief. "He thinks I'm only twenty-eight."
"Twenty-eight! But Momma, he knows I'm twelve. That would mean you had me when you were only sixteen!"
"So?" She shrugged. "It was very common in the South, Texas especially, for girls to get married at young ages. I knew girls who were only a few years older than you and already married with their first child."
"Really?" I tried to imagine myself already married. It seemed like such a big responsibility to have a husband, much less have a husband and children too. What would my husband be like? I wondered. I had never really thought about it. Oh, I dreamt and fantasized about movie stars and singers, but I never mused about actually setting up house and living every day with the same man. Of course, I would want him to be as loving and considerate as Daddy. I wouldn't want him to work as hard or as much, so if we weren't as rich, I wouldn't demand things all the time the way Momma did; but if we were rich, I would want the same things, I imagined.
He should be as debonair and sophisticated as Tony Tatterton was, too, I thought, and certainly as handsome. And I would want him to love and care for our children just as much as I did. He didn't have to be a movie star or a big businessman, as long as he loved me more than anything else in the world.
But what about me? I wondered. Could I care for someone else as much as I cared for myself? Was I capable of loving someone the way a wife should love a husband? I hadn't even graduated from high school, and I wanted to go to college too. Lately, I had been thinking about becoming a teacher and my day with little Troy had reaffirmed those ambitions. I enjoyed little children, loved their innocence and their inquisitiveness. Most children asked anything they wanted, even the most embarrassing questions. They were unpredictable and I found that delightful, even exciting at times.
"I don't want to get married for a long time," I declared.
"What? Why not?" Momma asked, a smirk on her face as if I had declared I wanted to be an atheist.
"I was thinking of going to college to become a teacher, a grade school teacher," I announced boldly. Momma's unhappy expression didn't change at all, as I had hoped it would; if anything it deepened.
"That's ridiculous, Leigh. You know who becomes grade school teachers--spinsters, women who look like my sisters or dumpy women with poor complexions. Just think for a moment. Can you imagine someone like me being a grade school teacher? Can you? It would be a terrible waste, wouldn't it? Well, it will be the same for you, for I expect you to develop into a beautiful young woman. I told you--you're going to be a debutante. You're going to go to the finest finishing schools and meet wealthy, aristocratic young men so someday you will live on an estate just like Farthy. I know I should be living on one," she added, an ominous tone in her voice.
"But Momma, I like little children. I just loved spending the day with little Troy."
"Liking little children is one thing. I like little children at times. There is a time and a place for them, but to condemn yourself to a life with them, stuffed away in some public school where you have no opportunity to me
et people of the finer classes . . ugh," she said shaking her head as if I had suggested working in a coal mine. "Little children are always sick. They sneeze and cough all over you. That's why those grade school teachers look so yellow and anemic."
I thought about some of mine. They hadn't appeared sickly and pale to me. Mrs. Wilson was a beautiful woman with long, dark brown hair and warm, green eyes. I loved her smile of sunshine. She was so nice, it was hard for her to get real mad, even when the boys pulled pranks like putting tacks on someone's seat.
"Put such thoughts out if your mind. You want to study the arts, music. You want to travel more. Next thing I know," she said, "is you'll tell me you want to be one of your father's ship engineers."
"I did once-dream of becoming the first woman to captain an ocean liner," I confessed. "And I told Daddy."
"Yes, and what brilliant thing did your father say?"
"He said someday that might just happen. There are women doctors and women lawyers, why not women as ship captains?"
"Just like him to encourage such thoughts. Next thing you'll know, there'll be women electricians and plumbers and telephone linemen. Oh, they'll have to be known as telephone women, though, won't they?" she asked and laughed. "Really, Leigh, I'm afraid we're going to have to get you away from the shipyards sooner than I thought, and off to some decent girls' school. It's just not healthy for you to be hanging around your father's office or going down into engine rooms surrounded by all those sweaty, greasy men. Do you see me doing that? When was the last time I went to your father's office? I can't recall it myself.
"Now let me think about this bon voyage party your father wants to have for the Caribbean cruise. I've already invited Tony Tatterton."
"You have?"
"Of course. And I'm going to invite a number of his wealthy friends, too. But let me think now. If I don't plan out this party, your father will make it look like a funeral."
She became silent for most of the remainder of our trip home, planning the party in her mind as she said she would. I thought about all the things she said and wondered if there was something wrong with me for not feeling as passionately as she did about certain things. I decided only time would tell and with the speed at which I was changing and developing, that wouldn't be so long a wait.
Since the bon voyage party was to be held in the ship's ballroom, Momma demanded that Daddy assign a different, larger vessel to the Caribbean cruise. He didn't want to do that because it would cut down on the profit since the ship was far too big for the anticipated number of passengers and required a much bigger crew. But she was insistent.
"You must learn to do things in a splashy way, Cleave," she told him. "The impression you make on the public is what matters now, not worrying about the profit and loss columns. We have the press coming and you showed me the passenger list--some of the finest families will be on this inaugural trip. It's worth the added expense."
In the end Daddy gave in to her demands and assigned The Milan, his second biggest luxury liner. Momma went down to the ship every day before the bon voyage party to oversee the decorations for the ballroom and to check on the entertainment, the menu, and the guest list. Many dignitaries from Boston were being invited, even though they weren't taking the cruise. Then Momma came up with a very exciting idea.
There was a new musical being tried out in Boston for its eventual opening in New York, and it had already gotten rave reviews, The Pajama Game. We had gone to opening night. Momma talked Daddy into spending even more money to hire members of the cast to come to the bon voyage party and sing some of the highlights like "Steam Heat." That brought us a lot more newspaper and magazine attention.
I went along with her to the printers to put in the order for the invitations she had designed herself. The front of them had a picture of a couple dressed in evening clothes standing on the deck and looking out over an inky blue ocean with a sky full of stars. You could just feel the warmth and the romance. The inside of the cover had copy from a recent magazine advertisement.
TOMORROW . . . 1500 MILES AT SEA . .
