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Caroline, we missed you there. I am glad you had visited Dianne in the hospital a few months back. Belle was so good to take you there. I know that was hard on you, but Dianne’s smile told the whole story. She appreciated it. Caroline, remember what I said about these letters. When you are reading them, if there comes a point that gets you all nervous and upset—stop reading. When I visit you, I can tell you all the good news so you don’t have to go through the sad stuff.
Dianne was so organized. She spent time before she last went into the hospital putting stuff in boxes by category. She remembered Momma’s file system which made it easier for us. The most precious box of all held the legal papers giving permission for George and me to adopt Suzy. She and George kept that from me, so I learned it the same time as Marie and Suzy. Boy did I cry my eyeballs out when I heard that! I can’t imagine another gift in the world better than that. I hope when I go, I will have taken care of everything as well as Dianne did.
Speaking of dying. The final medical report said that Dianne died of cancer. I kind of knew that. It did not matter much, except that is one more on the books for the BIG C.
Marie and Suzy have enjoyed being together. Once we got everything situated with Dianne and Joe’s house, we set up a bedroom for the two girls to share at our place. They refused to have separate bedrooms. Suzy said she did not ever want to sleep alone again. Marie totally agreed, saying neither of them was an only child anymore. Their room is bright and sunny. I made bedspreads and curtains to match. The fabric I used is blue with tuffs of cotton threads sticking up in an orderly way. I think the magazines call it chenille. I put a fringe border around the bottom. Although Dianne was better at sewing than me, I think she would approve.
George‘s job as a car mechanic is going well. Since the depression people are not buying new cars; they want to fix the ones they have. George is good at it. He says he can fix anything from bumper to bumper. We are doing well. I am just tending to the garden and the house. I also spend a lot of time keeping two girls out of trouble.
Caroline, the last time I visited, you were not feeling well. The doctors said you caught something going around. I hope by now you are back to normal. I get scared of most medical words—cancer, flu, polio, tuberculosis. The doctor said he is pretty sure you have none of the bad ones. You just might be feeling sluggish. He said rest and plenty of good food would help. Please let us know how you are doing now.
Okay, here is the news that is causing the biggest problem. Frank keeps coming around. He says he is owed a chance to get to know Marie. He says he wants to provide for her. Thank God he only visits when Marie is at school. She doesn’t know about him. All she knows about a loving father is George. No need for her to know anything else.
Each time Frank comes, he leaves money. At first it was just a few dollars and a small gift for Marie. I told him we did not need anything from him. We were fine on our own. But he won’t quit coming. Sometimes he just leaves a letter with money in it. Other times I am home, and we have an argument about his “rights” as a father. I have been honest with George about Frank coming, and he told me I should tell the police about it. I said to George, “What am I going to tell them? There is a man bringing me money, make him stop!”
I’m not scared of Frank coming here. I’m just annoyed. Anyway, last week he came when I was not home but George was. They evidently got into a fight. I mean a real fight, ’cause George had a shiner. George said he thinks he convinced Frank, man-to-man, to stay away.”
Frank evidently told George that he would not come back, but to give a letter to me. It was four pages long and made me mad and sad. Here is the gist of it.
Frank was making excuses why he had to go away when Marie was born. He said he was using the money his parents promised to make a “real life” for me and Marie. I’ve heard all that before. He went into some detail about being a lawyer and how successful he was. But he said, “I’ll never be really happy until I make it all up to you and our little family can be together again.”
Geez! He knows I am married to George, but said he would wait for me. Oh, good God. Sounds like that movie with Janet Gaynor and (somebody whose first name I can’t remember) March in A Star is Born. I guess Frank wants to make me a star.
The sweet part of the letter was about Marie. He said he saw her from a distance at school and “E, she is beautiful. She was happy, laughing, and jumping rope with some girls. She will be a good athlete. They were chanting rhymes and counting. She was up to 100 jumps without stopping! And that hair, E! Her jet black curls looked just like you. She is as lovely as her mother.” That part made me weep a bit because he is right about most of that. Marie is smart, kind, and loves to use her muscles in all kinds of games. I am proud of that child. You all know she fills my heart.
At the end of the letter he wrote the number of a bank account at a bank in Raleigh. He said the name on the account is Marie Nash but it is for both of us. He said until she is 18, I will have to sign to withdraw money for her. Frank has been putting money in that bank account since his parents died in a car crash in 1932. You guys remember, Mr. and Mrs. Pollard were coming home from a party and he crashed the car, killing them both. Somebody at the scene of the wreck said it was probably good Mr. Pollard was so drunk he never knew what happened because his wife was thrown from the car into a tree.
Anyway, Frank’s letter said he inherited money from them and his law practice was doing well and he didn’t need it all, so he put money in the account anytime he could. He signed the letter, “You and Marie should be very comfortable now. From the man who will always love you. Frank.”
So sappy. I don’t know how much is in there, but I will check the next time I go see you, Caroline.
I’ll sign off. Can’t wait for this round-robin letter to come ’round again.
I love you both,
Ethel, the oldest now
* * *
Hello sisters! – October 14, 1940
I just wanted to remind you that I am crazy, not stupid. I can read letters and know when to put them down. I take enough medicine to kill a cow, and they will give me more if they see me acting crazier. I stopped reading for a moment when Ethel talked about Dianne and again when she described the Pollards’ crash. I don’t think I ever heard that. Not sure what I thought happened to them but never knew it was a bloody mess.
Ethel, I perked up like a sane person when you talked about all the money you have. If you want, I can go down to that bank in Raleigh and find out how much we/you have. If you could see me, you would see my devil face when I wrote that.
I push away thoughts of Dianne being gone from us. That is not too hard since I have not been around for years. The picture I want in my head is the young Dianne. There is that image of her bossing me around with that brown hair falling over her left eye as she gave me the look. I knew there was always a twinkle in her eye underneath those curls.
I am glad Marie and Suzy are living as sisters. No girl should grow up without sisters. Maybe even a brother too. Work on that, Ethel. You are not too old yet.
Annie, you just had another birthday! Happy day to you. If my mind still does arithmetic right, you are 27 years old. Geez, that is a lot of years! I hope you ate cake.
My doctors think I am doing okay. The spasms and fits have nearly stopped. I sleep a lot. Those brain shock treatments really help me. Some people hate them and say the pain is awful. But it doesn’t hurt me. From the first one they did, my fits stopped, so I’ll go as many times as they want me to.
And I still like my job in the nursery. The children are fun to play with. And they really like when I hold them, read a book to them, or make projects with them. Like most people, they like attention. These children with crazy parents don’t get much attention paid to them except when they are here.
It seems like everyone in this place is sick. In the cafeteria you never heard such coughing and cussing. But the cussing is normal. People cough and then cuss, like they were saying ’scuse me.
Many of my friends are sick. Especially the older ones. They don’t come to the cafeteria anymore. They eat in their rooms. I guess that is to keep the cooties away from us or so they can sleep while being pumped with medicine. Last week three of my closest friends went to the hospital to stay. They had trouble breathing and coughed so much they could not eat or sleep. Doctors say the new medicine, penicillin, will help them get better. I hope it is the miracle medicine they say it is because I might get sick too.
