The Davenports(76)

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Helen eased the door to the library open to find a single lamp on. John sat in the corner. The book in his hand hung from his fingertips as he stared into the empty fireplace.

“I didn’t think anyone was in here,” she said.

The book fell to the floor with a thud. John straightened. “I wasn’t ready to go to bed.”

As Helen drew near, she noticed her brother looked unusually tired. He was almost as quiet at dinner as she and Mr. Lawrence were. Luckily, their mother carried the conversation well enough for them all.

“No plans to head to the garage?”

Helen shook her head. The late nights were starting to catch up with her. “I’d rather stay here. I love this room. This is where I come to hide during social functions,” she said. She ran her hand along the shelves, taking in the mix of leather-bound books and small crafts her father picked up from street vendors. His favorite was the little wooden horse whittled by a freed enslaved person he had known, whose eyes were clouded by cataracts, but whose fingers were agile enough to produce a mini masterpiece. Helen plucked the piece up and sat in the chair opposite her brother. “People don’t think to look for me here.”

“Oh, on the contrary,” he said with a wry smile. “It’s not as big a secret as you think. Sometimes your presence is so unpleasant, we leave you to your books.” He grinned when she delivered a half-hearted kick. “I needed somewhere to think.”

Helen leaned forward on her elbow, chin on her fist. “Want to tell me what’s on your mind? Like how a certain conversation with Daddy went?” She welcomed any distraction from the raging thoughts in her head and she desperately needed to know what progress was made.

John adjusted himself in the chair. He opened his mouth, then closed it.

She didn’t dare hope. “John? Did you and Daddy talk about the automobile manufacturing?”

His face fell. The silence stretched so long between them, Helen didn’t think he would answer. When he finally spoke, his voice was hoarse and defeated. “The lunch with the board members went well . . .”

“But?”

“But he’s still not convinced.”

“Ugh!” She wasn’t surprised. She had hoped against her better judgment.

John tugged on her ear. “Don’t worry. We’ll keep trying.” Though he still looked sad.

“I know.” Helen slumped back, then sat up. “Wait, what else were you thinking about?”

Her brother sighed. “Amy-Rose was going to move to California.”

“What?” This was news to Helen. Amy-Rose had been a part of Helen’s life for longer than she could remember.

John nodded. “She wants to open a business, a salon, and she believes that getting far from here would be her best shot.”

“That doesn’t sound like her.” Helen replayed her last interactions with Amy-Rose in her head. Has she been unhappy and I’ve been too self-absorbed to notice? As if he read the question on her face, John spoke.

“I think I’m falling for her, Helen. And I almost lost her.” Her brother sighed and Helen thought she had never heard such a lonely sound. “At the party, I shunned her in front of my friends . . . Even if she felt then a fraction of what I felt when she told me she was moving—”

“John! How could you?”

“I know.” He wiped his face with his hands.

“It’ll take a lot for her to get over a slight like that. She must have felt awful . . .” Helen knew it. The other girls her age— The nausea and dizziness that came with the humiliation they waged. She’d decided long ago to stop trying to fit in.

“It was a betrayal. I know that,” he said, “but I think we’re on our way past it.”

She narrowed her eyes at her brother. “She’s forgiven you? How did you manage that? And don’t say your charming personality. I don’t think you have one.”

He flashed her an exaggerated smile, which made her roll her eyes. His expression sobered and he said, “I don’t think I’m forgiven yet. She plans to open her own salon here in the city. I’ll have time to make it up to her and convince Daddy to hand over more business responsibilities to me. I’m not sure how Mama and Daddy will take our relationship, but the fact that Amy-Rose is staying gives me a chance.”

Helen’s gaze traveled to the dormant firebox. “Mama and Daddy you can work with. If they accept her, everyone else will fall in line. Life is too short and the choice too important.” She thought of what Mrs. Milford had told her—how you should hold on to your happiness, however long you have it. Even if it’s a few short hours in a museum where no one knows who you are.

“Thanks, Helen,” he whispered. Minutes passed. The clock on the mantel was the only sound in the room. “Do you plan to tell me what’s on your mind? I shared, so can you.”

Helen covered her face with her hands. Her encounter with Jacob Lawrence had left her feeling too raw. The last thing she wanted was to relive it. Her nerves were on edge from dinner and her stomach bubbled with hunger as she thought about all the carefully planned courses she’d ordered and barely tasted. John didn’t give up. He asked questions, the next more ridiculous than the last. “Have you decided to join a traveling troupe as a tightrope walker?” He nudged her with his foot and she slouched in her chair like a rag doll.