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Compassion - Series #9
Guest Author - Leona L. Early

Compassion - Series #9
-------------
THE SECRETS

Twenty years and a lost fortune later, only Isadora and Henry remained at the
house with Miss Connie and her gambling husband, Donald. Isadora looked after
Connie and Henry looking after Isadora. Henry was very old now. Winter was rapidly approaching and Henry had cut and piled up as much firewood as he could. He could no longer do all the chores he once did, and all the other hands had packed up and moved on long ago. The house was badly in need of repairs. Over-grown vegetation was everywhere. There was no grass on the once sprawling lawn and the snow white paint on the house was now faded gray. Henry's health was deteriorating and he had a bad cough that had been hanging on for months. He slowly walked into the warm kitchen where Isadora was warming some left over chicken soup. She fixed him some in a big bowl and set it on the table in front of him. She cut him a thick slice of hot fresh
baked bread. He watched her blow the tips of her fingers. She handed him a glass of lemonade. She was every bit as beautiful as her mother he thought. He wished she had a better life. He hoped that what he was going to tell her would help her to make up her mind, and go get a better life. Get married, move away from here. Raise some babies.

The Montgomery's had gone into town so that Miss Connie could see the dentist, Dr. Ferndale. Long before she married Donald, Connie would meet Harry Ferndale, down by the pond. They probably would have gotten married, but at the time, Harry was just a poor clerk in one of old man Frederickson's hardware stores. Besides, Mr. Iverson always thought that Harry Ferndale looked as if he might have a touch of Negro blood in him, because of his frizzy blond hair and thick lips, but he had no proof of that and he couldn't be sure. But, he did think that he would be a better match for Isadora.
But told no one of this thought.

While Miss Connie was getting her teeth checked by her old beau, Harry Ferndale, Henry was about to divulge on of his biggest secrets. "Isadora..." said Henry, in his low, soft voice. "I've got something to tell you. First you better come and sit at the table with me. I guess it's best to tell you what I got to say right now. Maybe I should have told you right after the Mister died, but, I made a promise to your mama not to say anything." He waited while Isadora dried her hands on her apron, poured herself a glass of lemonade, and sat down. Henry had loved Isadora like a daughter. He had
been in love with Inola, and Isadora could have been his, except she looked so much like the Mister. The only grief he held in his heart was that Inola would never come back to him after the Mister had taken her. After that, he knew Inola hated her life there, but she had no place to go, and she had to think about her baby. Mr. Iverson's baby, the little Negro one.

"Isadora, you know that I love you like a father?" He cleared his throat, before continuing... And, that I would never do anything to hurt you. But, because of my health these days and age, I feel that you should know, if you haven't guessed it by now, that the Mister was your real daddy...” He watched the shock on Isadora's face. He could see her face turn a dark red, and wondered what she thought. He waited. She took a long breath, letting it out slowly through her mouth.

"I...I guess I kind of knew that my daddy must of been either a very light skinned man or a white man, because of the color of my skin and my hair was so different from my mama's skin and hair, but I didn't know Mr. Iverson was my daddy. Maybe I saw it and maybe not. But, at least now I know for sure and I don't have to wonder anymore." She thought for a moment, about the time many years ago when she saw how much she looked like Connie, and then said, "That makes me and Miss Connie part-real sisters. At one time, long ago, that thought would have made me very happy. Now, it don't matter no more. Nothing matters anymore. Not since Mr. Donald set foot on this land."

Warm tears ran down her face. There was so much that she wanted to know that only her mother could tell her. "I thank you for telling me. I guess, well...I just wish I had known long ago. I could have called him daddy, and given him a big kiss before he died. My daddy.... I did love him anyway, Henry, I really did. I guess I must of known, you know? Deep down inside of me, I must of known something...I always felt so safe around him. And, it seemed as if I always knew what he was thinking before he said anything." She wiped her face with her apron, and started to get up, but he took hold
of her hand.

Henry cleared his throat again. "There is more I got to tell you...I saw Mr. Donald down by the pond with some men looking through one of those land measuring things. They are building something on that land that your daddy left to you. I think Mr. Donald sold your land away." They both heard the old car pull up in front, it thin tires sliding to a stop on the gravel. Henry quickly drank the rest of his soup out of the bowl and hurried the best he could out the back door and around to the front to help them in. He had known what Mr. Iverson had found out about Donald not really being who he
said he was, but he promised not to tell anyone. For a moment he thought about telling Isadora, but changed his mind.

Later that evening as Isadora fixed a tray of warm milk, biscuits, and molasses and fried fatback, to take to them in the dinning room, she thought briefly about the land that was left to her. She just didn't care anymore. She could hear them talking. He was talking about this last big deal that he promised would be the last. It had to be the last, there was nothing left. They were still talking about it as she carried in the tray. This would
be all they would have to eat until morning. She would find something for the morning.

They both sat up anxiously as they could hear Isadora's worn leather slippers flip-flopping towards them. Her once white and starchy uniform was now worn, with frayed collar and cuffs. But, it was still clean and neatly pressed. Donald had put on what was once a fine velvet smoking jacket. It was stained with sweat and coffee and food. It had burned spots in it from the hot ash of his pipe. Isadora had taken care of Miss Connie's clothes the best she could, but time and the moths had won out. The silk gown she was now wearing, although clean, was limp and shapeless.

"...But Donald," said an exasperated Connie. "This must be the last one, there just isn't anymore. It's all gone. Now, I know it is not your fault. You did your best, but maybe it will be best if you found some type of work to do...if we don't pay the taxes by the first of the year, the house is gone. There is nothing left to sell...we're going to our graves poor." she sipped the warm milk.

A drop of milk hung on Donald's chin, as he set his cup aside and dipped his biscuit into the molasses. "Connie, I know that I've made some ... some ... er...decisions... but, I ask that you trust me on this one. I know the bad times are coming to an end, I just know It." said Donald. Isadora had heard it all before. She wondered if Connie had missed her grandmother's heirloom in jewels, which had been brought over from England and had been in that family for many years ago. The jewels had been sold, along with everything else he could get his hands on. Isadora had given Donald a knowing
glance as she left the room. He had come to despise those looks she gave him
out the corner of her eyes. Those 'I know what you did' looks. He had told her once she better mind her own business or find someplace else to live.

Isadora felt sorry for Miss Connie, her sister, she was so naive and she love Mr. Donald so much that she was blind to everything he had done. Isadora had seen him in town with other women during her weekends off, while she herself visited her friends across the train tracks. She had seen him coming from the house with the red lights on its porch. It would surely kill Miss Connie.

Isadora was about to go to her quarters when the phone in the hall rang.
"Montgomery residence", she said in a rich voice. She listened to the crackling sounds on the other end...”yes, this is the residence of Mr. Montgomery." She let the earpiece dangle on the cord and as she turned to go get Mr. Donald, she bumped smack into him. His weight, smashing her to the wall. He snatched up the receiver. "Yes...this is he speaking. Carter Chase of Lloyds...Secretary for whom? Yes I'll hold on." He wrote something down on the phone pad. "Yes...yes. I will be there to sign the papers by
December 1st. Let's see, that's about eight weeks from now." He gently hung up the phone. Then he started jumping up and down and shouting. He grabbed Connie when she rushed in to see what the shouting was all about. She looked at Isadora, who seemed to be glued to the spot where Donald had pushed against the wall. Isadora shrugged her shoulders, letting Connie know that she didn't know what all the excitement was about.

"Donald...for heavens sake, what in the world has gotten into you?" She gasped as Donald grabbed and hugged her tightly and kissed her for the first time in years. He swung her around in circles. Connie's face flushed at his display of affection in front of Isadora who seemed totally shocked too.

Then he stood still and began to cry. Connie had never seen him cry before. She was shocked and embarrassed at the same time. She reached out to him, both oblivious now to Isadora's presence. "What is it my love?" said Connie. Isadora looked down at the scuffed hardwood floor. She too, was embarrassed.

"It's happened...Connie we can be rich again. The shipping deal came through. We'll be rich again. I have to be in London by the first of December. How can I go when I can't even buy you a decent meal to eat? Where will I get the boat fare?" he said as the tears ran down his flushed cheeks. He sat at the foot of the stairs with his head in his hands and thought about all the money he wasted on those whores, money that he needed so badly. "Oh...what will I do now?"

For the first time in their married life, Donald heard a voice come from Connie that he had never heard before. Connie had turned sharply and
looked firmly at Isadora. Isadora knew what was coming. Miss Connie was the only person who knew that Isadora had saved all the money she had ever been given since she was old enough to earn any. Isadora was rich, but Miss Connie refused to let her spend a dime of her money to help them. She wanted her husband to do it on his own. But, now was different. "Donald...how can you be so sure this is not just another of your screw-ups?" He looked up shocked at her tone of voice. But she wasn't looking at him as she spoke; she was looking Isadora squarely in the eye.

"That phone call came from David Lloyd-James, himself. He is one of the best
lawyers in London. He represents Lloyd’s of London. It's real. I know I've lied to you before, but I ask that you trust me just this one time. It's very real." Connie had known that her father had done a lot of business with the big insurance company in London. And, had heard the name of Lloyd’s of London many times. But, she had never heard of anyone by the name of David Lloyd-James. She wondered if he was related to the insurance company. Donald was weeping so hard, loosing control of his legs, slipped off the bottom stairs, and onto the floor when Connie said:

"Isadora will loan us the money for the trip. Won't you Isadora?" said Connie in a stern, controlled, commanding, voice, emphasizing each ward. It was almost threatening, Isadora thought. Yet, there was a slight smile at the corner of her mouth.

Isadora did not hesitate to answer. Though she had mixed emotions because it was for one of Donald's deals, and at the same time she knew it would make Connie, her sister happy. Donald had gotten up. He turned to Isadora with new respect. He felt humbled and shamed at the way he had treated her for so many years. Then, the old Donald returned as he thought to him, "If she has the money to get me to London, I'm going to get it one way or the other. I'm getting on that boat, ...no, we...Connie and me are going to book passage on that boat!" He knew by the tone of Connie's voice, that no matter what he did, she would always stand behind him. For the first time since the day he first met Connie, he respect her. Donald snapped back into reality when he heard Isadora ask how much would he need? "How much will I need," he thought, "how
much does the old witch have?" He quickly added figures in his head, including expenses for his wife. He didn't know the exact amount of passage these days, so he just threw out a figure. "I figure we will need about five-thousand dollars...to be sure that we are at least comfortable...besides, we will need to buy a few clothes for the trip... you know...we want to look presentable."
(To Be Continued)
-------------------
Hey There Friends,

As you know, summer is here, and there is going to be a lot of people roaming around. Some looking to have a good time, and some looking to get into trouble. It has always been a habit with me to carry my money in my pockets, and my keys in one hand, and my purse in another. That way, if someone wants to snatch your purse, they get a lot of "what-ever-you-got-in-there, but they won't get your car or house keys. It will same you time and money to not have to get a new car or pay to get new locks.

Go treat yourself to a pedicure, and wear some nice sandles, and loose fitting summer clothing. Nothing tight or binding. Check out the latest fashion colors, and get with it! Get yourself a new hair-do, and take a friend out to lunch. But, do get out and about. It can make a big difference in the quality of life, and besided, the fresh air will make you sleep better.
Love Ya Much,
Leona



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Content copyright © 2009 by Leona L. Early. All rights reserved.
This content was written by Leona L. Early. If you wish to use this content in any manner, you need written permission. Contact Charlene Ashendorf for details.

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