Read Online The Personal History of Rachel DuPree by Ann Weisgarber - Free Book Online Page B

put it up in the attic. I wanted the dress near me. I wanted to admire the lace collar and to be able to touch the pearl-shaped buttons that ran down the back. I wanted to think how it would feel for Isaac to take that smooth satin dress off of me.
    “No,” I told Mama. “Not yet.”
    She covered it with an old bedsheet, telling me that would keep it fresh until the right man came along. But I knew different. The right man had already come along. For me, it was Isaac DuPree or nobody.
    It was the seventh of July, just before dinner, when Isaac showed up at Mrs. DuPree’s back door, I froze right up, unable to move or say a word. “You’re still here,” he said. I didn’t know what to make of that. He said, “We’ll leave in two days. Wednesday morning,” and I was so thankful that he had come for me, that he hadn’t forgotten, that I burst into tears, embarrassing myself before him.
    “What’s this?” he said. “You didn’t think I’d back out of our deal, did you?”
    I pulled myself together and shook my head.
    “I was up in South Dakota, staking your claim. That, and other business, took a little longer than I expected. But just wait until you see it. Three hundred and twenty acres all told. Prettiest piece of country I’ve ever seen.”
    That was the last night I cooked dinner in Mrs. DuPree’s boardinghouse. Isaac sat at the head of the table with the boarders. His mother was shut up in her bedroom, spitting mad that he had come for me. The men begged for more stories about the army and about Isaac’s homestead, and he was glad to oblige them. Feeling light on my feet, I served bowls of fried chicken, snap green beans, and sweet yams. I thought I saw pride in Isaac’s eyes as he watched me. When it was all on the table, I went back to the kitchen. There, Trudy said she’d do the dishes—that was her wedding present to me. Tears in my voice, I promised her I’d write; she said she’d come visit. “I’ll look for you,” I said as I hung up my apron for the last time. I took off my hair kerchief. I went back to the dining table, my bag in hand. One by one, I said good-bye to the boarders. I saw the envy in their eyes, but they wished me well, even Thomas Lee Patterson, the man I had snubbed not all that long ago. When I came to Isaac, he gave me a quick nod. I expected him to say something but he didn’t.
    I turned back to the kitchen. “Not that way,” Isaac said. I didn’t know what he meant. He got up and took my arm. I stumbled as a shock bolted through me. It was the first time he had touched me. I felt woozy and weak. He tightened his hold. The boarders watched. A few of them grinned. To my surprise, Isaac led me through the parlor to the front door. We stood there not sure what to say to each other. Finally he said, “Wednesday morning. Eight o’clock. I’ll meet you at Preacher Teller’s church. The train leaves at 10:10 A.M.”
    “I have a trunk,” I managed to say.
    “Have it sent to the station.”
    “How?”
    He hesitated. In that moment I saw that he understood what he was getting: a woman what didn’t know anything about the world. He said, “Bring your trunk to the preacher’s then.”
    He let go of my arm and opened the screen door for me. I went out, hearing the door slap closed behind me. I looked over my shoulder. Isaac was gone. All the same, I held up my hand as if he were there to see me wave good-bye.
    Forcing a smile, I stepped off of the front porch and went along the gravel walkway to the walk that followed the street. I hardly knew where I was. The alley was my way home, not this.
    Old oak trees lined the walk. Their thick, twisted roots buckled the surface. I picked my way over the roots, sure that I was going to fall. My legs felt loose and my ears rang. My skin was clammy like I was coming down with something. Nerves, I thought. I stopped and steadied myself, pulling in some air. It was then that I saw that the houses on the street were shabby. They