No. 58

Chas. In 1895 (Fair Turn)

Stewart King c/o

John C. Davant, Attorney

501 Cleveland St.

Clearwater Florida

December 5, 1939

Dear Stewart,

After your mother gave me a haircut, she wiped her sweat, placed her hands on her hips, and reminded me of that saying: busy, busy, busy, (or, as my mother used to say in Dutch: “Druk…druk…druk”) still moving in and out of rooms but smiling—and so was I as my eyes lifted to the long, shiny banister—and these two siblings continued to pepper one another.

It reminded me of how children jump and sing a tiresome refrain to a schoolyard rhyme. The pitch from Charles was that your mother was to take me in “for real”. Charles was to live up to his end of the bargain, but I don’t remember now what he was supposed to do. Something to do with money, because at this point, they were whispering about it, although still with a kindly grin of fraternal conspiracy. And then, the handshake and I was sealed.

Charles jumped a bit towards me and patted my shoulder, dragged me running up and down the spiral steps, above the kitchen, showing me my quarters, nearly causing me to get sick, and then he took off for an errand. I turned my body, but kept my feet in place, hoping to follow him, ducking a bit to see out the window, which still had no draperies. I saw him helping the movers. They acted like they knew him and knew him well, which comforted me and I smiled from that moment on.

That day, I will never forget, I let Charles and your family catch me, just assuming wealthy people would never maltreat me. This man in uniform would take care of me, yes, because he promised to check up on me periodically to make sure I didn’t need saved again.

Beforehand, on that rickety ride over to meet your mother, Charles confirmed what I had already put together in my head as I came to serve him lunch at the saloon: That he did not live in Clinton. That he was a senior Railway Postal Clerk, always carried a pistol. That he and the other clerks would surely risk losing their jobs for this human catch, so I was to say nothing of their role. That he moved around, based mostly in Des Moines and Sioux City. That he could not stay with me long or often at his sister’s house. That he could not even stay that evening. That the shame I knew before this Thursday did not belong in the mansion. That your mother would not want me to talk to her friends, probably ever. That things are fancy now. That if I placed my hope in her, devoted my life to her, and worked to making a beautiful home, nothing could harm me.

That was the new creed. Not a hard turn.

—Miss Minnie

2025 Copyright Christine Friesel