Chapter 5
August 5, 1959
Kelly awoke before dawn with fragments of a dream about weddings and shotguns and flower girls. Christi, who was the flower girl in her dream, had actually been a flower girl in three weddings so far. Kelly had never been asked once. She wondered why. She knew she could do it. In the first grade, she had carried a basket of flowers down the aisle of Holy Trinity Church for the May procession. She had picked the petals from her basket in dainty clumps and dropped them down gracefully on the cool marble floor, but that wasn't special like being a real flower girl because all the other girls in school were in the procession, too.
She remembered that first procession vividly. It had all started in the classroom in mid-April with Sister Mary Teresa's announcement, "It's time to plan our Mother's Day procession. One lucky girl will get to crown the statue of Mary, the Blessed Mother of Jesus. Today, we'll draw names. Girls, write your name on a piece of paper and put it in this box."
Six-year-old Kelly hadn't really understood what it all meant, but there were pictures of last year's procession in the principal's office and Kelly could tell it was something special. Every time she had been sent to the office for "talking back to the teacher," Kelly had stared at the pictures and focused on the little blond girl up on her tip-toes placing a garland of flowers on the graceful life-like statue of the Blessed Mother. Kelly wanted more than anything to be the one chosen. She was even feeling lucky that day. She picked up her freshly sharpened number two pencil and began to print neatly "K-" when she heard Sister say, "Except Kelly."
Stunned, Kelly looked up at the wonderful teacher who had taught her to read and introduced her to the magic of the library. This wonderful teacher had told her the exciting news about the baby Jesus who would grow up to die on a cross and live again to save her from her sins. This wonderful teacher had assured her that Jesus, the very Son of God, loved her and that made her special. After all that, how could she do this?
"Why not me?" she frowned, talking back to the teacher, carelessly risking another trip to the principal's office.
"You're too tall, Kelly. It wouldn't look cute for someone so tall to go up there in front of everyone," she explained. "You don't even look like a first grader," the tiny nun added as an afterthought.
Kelly had nodded and smiled her understanding, swallowing a sob. Immediately, she raised her hand with two fingers extended in the silent signal for a long, bathroom break. Sister Mary Teresa acknowledged her request with a single bob of her starched white headgear.
The following year, when Kelly skipped the second grade and was in Christi's third grade class, Sister Mary Teresa tried to make up to Kelly for hurting her so badly. The nun was in charge of the school's music program and she gave Kelly a church hymnal, promising that she could play the organ for the procession if she could learn the hymns in time. After Kelly's mother helped her perfect them on the piano, Sister showed Kelly how to operate the two-manual organ. She showed her where the key to the choir loft was hidden and gave Kelly permission to enter the always-unlocked church at any time to practice as much as she wanted.
Kelly wiggled her toes under the covers in the bed in Christi's dark bedroom and remembered slipping off her shoes at Sister's instruction and feeling the slim, smooth foot pedals of the big Hammond when she touched them for the first time through her white cotton socks. She had loved the power of it and the awesome sounds that the organ could produce with no effort at all. She just barely touched a key and the voice of a trumpet or a violin or a clarinet, or all of them and more together, would echo from the choir loft high up in the back of the church all the way to heaven.
Now that she had finished the sixth grade, Kelly had played for the procession four years in a row. Every May, as she sat at the organ playing "We Crown Thee with Flowers" and jealously watching the cute little first-grader in starched white organdy ascend the flower-bedecked stairs to crown the Blessed Mother, Kelly felt the hurt of being excluded so unfairly. She had long ago memorized the hymn, knowing she couldn't keep her place on the music through the tears that always came.
Remembering those tears, Kelly blinked and noticed that the first rays of dawn were breaking through the lace barricades at Christi's bedroom windows. Kelly looked around the room which was as familiar as her own and studied it in the black and white of early morning, trying to keep herself from being bored. She hated waiting for Christi to wake up, but knew from hard experience that her best friend would be grumpy if aroused too early.
Kelly pondered again the adultery problem and tried to reassure herself that it wasn't her mother with Mr. Boudreaux. She concluded that she didn't have enough information to decide and realized that she didn't know her mother very well at all. She had heard glowing stories about Regina's childhood in an exclusive Main Line Philadelphia boarding school, but Kelly had been there to visit it and she thought it would be horrible to live in a huge granite dormitory next to the huge granite building where classes were held. Her mother's practice room had been wonderful, though, with a Steinway grand piano, twenty foot ceilings, and great gothic windows overlooking the acres and acres of trees and manicured lawns which sloped down to the eight-foot granite wall separating the school from the rest of the world.
Kelly knew the story about her mother going into nurses training after "finishing school." Nursing was the only advanced education which her grandfather would permit for a girl, because the knowledge itself would be helpful in raising a family. No girl in their family would ever be expected, or even allowed, to work. After graduation, Regina had taken a cruise to Panama, to visit her older sister whose husband worked in the American hospital there. It was wartime. They needed nurses. Regina accepted a job in the hospital without telling her family back home.
Not long after that, Clayton McCain was injured while rescuing three seamen during a serious storm off the coast. He was brought to the hospital on the Pacific side of the Canal where Regina worked. Kelly always had doubts about the heroic rescue tale because he wouldn't discuss it, but she had seen the big black-and-white pictures of an awards ceremony in Panama. Her daddy looked big and tan and handsome in white. Her mother was petite and chic in a dark and white suit with matching hat and, of course, white gloves. She was the only woman in the huge, white-shuttered auditorium with giant ceiling fans and rows and rows of men in uniforms. In the midst of all that, Regina's long, thick strawberry-blond hair almost jumped out of the picture at you.
Kelly had also seen Clayton John McCain's huge Distinguished Service certificate from the War Department framed in mahogany, hanging in their library, but those items alone would not be enough to convince her. When Kelly learned to read, her daddy had warned her not to believe everything she read just because it was in print. It was her habit to question everything in her mind. Often, she doubted.
She began to wonder if there were others who died in that storm and maybe that's why he didn't ever talk about it. Maybe one was his best friend and he couldn't save him. She looked at her still-sleeping best friend and tried to imagine what it would feel like to lose her. She probably wouldn't be able to talk about it either, but she wanted her daddy to tell about his.
Her daddy had a lot of best friends, it seemed to Kelly, and he told her funny stories about most of them. Her mother, on the other hand, didn't go out and only had two friends that she talked to on the telephone about once a week. That made Kelly feel a lot more comfortable about the adultery problem.
"Thank you, Jesus!" she whispered under her breath, realizing that it couldn't be her mother. Her mother was always at home because she was afraid to drive a car. Kelly began to wonder what she did all day. Nellie Mae kept the house clean and did the washing and ironing. Her mother cooked, but that was about it. She just waited for her husband to come home for lunch and then waited for him to come home for dinner. Kelly remembered hearing somewhere about "ladies-in-waiting" and decided that that must be what her mother was.
She looked over at Christi, still sleeping while Kelly impatiently waited and worried that she was already becoming a "lady-in-waiting." She didn't like the way it felt and she didn't want to be like her mother, who waited at home and always wore white gloves when she did go out. She made Kelly wear gloves too and she wouldn't allow her to walk barefooted or go out in the sun without a hat and sunglasses. She made her practice the piano every day and take all kinds of lessons so Kelly would be "accomplished." At least she would never have to go to a "finishing school." Her daddy had promised her that, for sure, but when Kelly asked why she had to do all these things, her mother said it was to land a good husband.
Kelly thought that her mother had landed a good husband, but the family back east certainly didn't. They thought that a guy nicknamed "Cotton" because he could pick so much for a white boy, who ran away from the farm when he was fifteen and lied about his age to join the Marine Corps, and then became the alligator-wrestling champion of the Canal Zone, could never be a "good catch." Clayton had married Regina the day he got out of the hospital, exactly three weeks after they met. Her parents had stopped writing to her when they heard the news and they died before Kelly was born, never finding out how good their son-in-law really was and all the good stories about him.
Kelly's favorite was about how he always drank at least a quart of Scotch every day. Then, one evening, right before Kelly's second birthday, Clayton McCain had come home drunk and picked up Kelly for a kiss. She had pushed him back saying, "No! I won't kiss you! You smell funny and you're acting funny!"
Of course, Kelly didn't remember any of that, but what she knew for certain in her heart was that her daddy had poured out all the liquor in the house that night and never had another drink. His friends didn't even kid him about it. They all still drank and he didn't, but they were all still his friends.
Kelly looked over at Christi again, hoping that if she stared long enough, it would wake up her friend. It didn't work. Kelly sighed loudly. That didn't work either. The small Princess phone between their beds flashed a soft glow and Kelly grabbed it before it had a chance to ring.
"Boudreaux residence," she whispered, "Kelly McCain speaking."
"Good morning, Baby," her daddy responded. "Want to go to breakfast? There's a special guest today."
"Sure," Kelly smiled, not needing any encouragement. "Come get me. I'll be ready in five minutes."
Kelly dressed in one minute flat, made her half of the bed, then wrote a note to Christi while going to the bathroom. She figured she'd be back before Christi awoke and Christi would know where she was anyway, but she left the note on her pillow and walked quietly out to the front porch. She had trouble resisting a finger-lick of cream from the top of the freshly-delivered quarts of milk, but her daddy arrived in time to save her from that "near occasion of sin," as Sister Mary Teresa would characterize the temptation.
"Who's the guest?" Kelly asked before she got the car door closed.
"Twenty questions," he smiled.
"Politician?" was her first, and easiest, since that was the pervasive theme of these regular breakfasts at Garrett's Grill. It only took four questions to figure out that Senator Albright would be joining the group this morning. Kelly was excited as they pulled into the big asphalt parking lot and walked in the side door.
"Good morning, LaRue," she smiled at the waitress.
"Hi, Kelly, Clayton," she nodded. "He's not here yet," she whispered, eager as any of them to visit with Mississippi's esteemed veteran United States Senator.
Kelly and her daddy took their regular seats at the big table in the back room, where all the guys but the mayor and the sheriff were already in place, drinking black coffee and arguing politics. LaRue put a steaming cup in front of Clayton and handed Kelly a glass of freshly-squeezed orange juice. Kelly sipped it slowly and let herself become absorbed in the men's conversation.
Suddenly, the buzz of voices died and the men all began scruffing back their chairs, rising to greet the Senator. Kelly sat up straighter in her chair and tried to look as old as possible for her eleven years, torn between rising to her feet out of respect as a properly-trained child would, or remaining seated as a sophisticated woman would. Senator Albright saved the moment by walking directly over to her, motioning for her to stay seated. She loved him immediately for that and extended her right hand.
"Beauty before age," the tall slender man nodded toward the others, reaching for Kelly's hand.
"I'm Kelly McCain," the young girl smiled up at him. "It's an honor to meet you, Senator Albright."
"It's my pleasure," he insisted. "I had no idea there would be such a lovely rose among these thorns."
The regulars chuckled dutifully at the Senator's remark and, though she had always been as free as the rest of them to make comments and express her opinions, some of them looked at Kelly as if they had never noticed her before. No one but Clayton McCain had ever brought a child into the group. No one else had ever considered it, and, certainly, there had never been any other female in all the years of these informal breakfasts where the political business of running Vicksburg was actually decided. Seeing Kelly through the Senator's eyes gave the regulars a startling new perspective.
One by one, the men shook hands with the Senator, indicating the depth, or lack, of relationship with him by the degree of insults they used to greet each other. Kelly was pleased to hear her father addressed as a "sorry pole cat" while some of the others got only a "glad to meet you, Joe." The mayor outshone them all, however, by receiving the Senator's thanks for the invitation to visit along with the comment that he was the "dumbest son-of-a-bitch to ever run a fair-sized city."
LaRue brought in platters of eggs, sausages and biscuits, along with bowls of gravy and grits. For the first few minutes of the meal, the talk was the usual for a "city-council Wednesday," but naturally, with their guest, the discussion quickly became more national in scope. Kelly listened in fascination as the obviously intelligent man led the conversation.
"Any Catholics in this group?" the Senator asked unexpectedly.
There was a slight moment of discomfort in the crowd. Kelly raised her hand and, for the second time that morning, felt all eyes on her.
"I'm a Catholic," she announced boldly, knowing that she was the only one. Most of her daddy's friends were Baptists, as he was.
The Senator raised an eyebrow as he looked across the big table at Kelly. She stared directly into his blue eyes without flinching. Surely this wonderful man wasn't going to make her sit through another Catholic joke. She hoped her face wouldn't flush.
"Fellows," the Senator looked away from Kelly and around the table, "you need to know that there's a young Democratic Senator from Massachusetts who's going to carry some serious clout in this Presidential election. Might even run for Vice-President himself. Name's Jack Kennedy."
A couple of the men nodded in recognition of the name. Kelly had never heard it.
"He's Catholic," the Senator said softly, eliciting groans from some of the men.
"A Catholic couldn't get a nomination," the local congressman opined and several of the aldermen grunted their agreement.
"Mark my words," the Senator continued. "Don't write him off. Being Catholic is not necessarily fatal." He winked at Kelly and she relaxed again, hoping that her face had not betrayed her anxiety. She took another sip of orange juice and listened intently to the rest of the discussion as she finished her scrambled eggs.
Later, she tried to talk to Christi about it, but Christi wasn't interested in politics at all. The girls spent the late morning on their bicycles, riding in tandem through the nearly-deserted streets of residential Vicksburg, jockeying for position in the heaviest shade. By eleven o'clock, they were both hungry again and near enough to Kelly's house to drop in for lunch. However, both girls were specifically hungry for a Dairy Queen hamburger and a strawberry shake.
"Let's go," Christi started off.
"I can't."
"Why?"
"I don't have any money on me."
"But you told Daddy you did," Christi reminded her.
"I lied."
"Why?"
"I don't know," Kelly lied again, thinking about the 'adultery' word and remembering that she couldn't look at Mr. Boudreaux any more.
"Stop here. Let's see if I have enough for both of us," Christi counted. "Nope. Sorry. Why don't we go by your house to get some?"
"We might get stuck there, especially if Nellie Mae has something good started for lunch. And she'll want to hear all about your trip. Then my parents will want to hear it."
She sighed. All she could think of now was a big juicy hamburger with lots of mustard and onion. And a cool thick strawberry shake. There had to be a way.
"Christi, I got it! Follow me."
Minutes later the two girls were talking to Mr. Everett through his screen door.
"Yes, sir, I kept those kids from riding through your yard the whole time you were gone. And, in case you didn't notice, I cleaned out your garbage can really well so it wouldn't draw rats, and I watered your garden some, while I was at it."
"Martha, come here. Did you hear what all this nice child did while we were gone?"
"What? Oh, it's Kelly McCain. Good morning, Kelly, how are you?"
"Fine."
"And who's your little friend here?"
"You remember Christina Boudreaux, don't you?"
"Yes, of course. Good morning, Christina."
"Good morning, ma'am."
"Now what's all this you did? Won't you come in and have some barbecue?"
"No, thank you, ma'am. We were just on our way over to the Dairy Queen for a hamburger and a strawberry shake."
"Now, Kelly, you tell Mrs. Everett what all you did while we were gone."
"Oh, it wasn't much."
"Wasn't much? Why, this child kept those other kids from riding all over our yard…"
"Do tell."
"and she watered the garden…"
"No!"
"and even scrubbed out that filthy garbage can just so's the rats wouldn't come."
"Well, glory be."
Kelly shrugged her shoulders. "It wasn't really much. I just wanted to stop by and see if you had a good trip and…"
"We sure did, honey, but it's awful nice to come home, especially with such nice neighbors. Herman, don't we have a little something from Florida for Kelly and her friend?"
Old Man Everett shuffled to the kitchen and returned with a box of salt-water taffy.
"We were going to bring this to you anyway, but seeing's how you kept an eye on things for us, here's a little something extra," he added, reaching into his pocket and coming up with a one-dollar bill and two fifty-cent pieces.
"Spend the money wherever you want, but don't eat all that candy before lunch. I don't want Nellie Mae getting on me."
"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir. It's real generous of you. I didn't do much. Really."
Kelly and Christi sped off again on their bikes, this time for the Dairy Queen.
"What a sweet child! Imagine, cleaning out our garbage can and all."
"Yep, we sure are lucky to have such nice neighbors." The glow of being back home lasted for days.
