It Is Edith's Tree

The young women hugged.  “Clydis Groner,” Wilma whispered into her ear.  “Clydis Groner helped me.  She knew I hurt because she’d hurt, too.  And she helped my mom to be a grandma, and, Rita, I want to help you.”

Joe went into the kitchenette and set a pot to perk.  He made it strong, believing it was to be all night coffee.

They had been acquainted during their last two years of school.  She’d never heard where Rita’d come from.  At first Rita was skinny and looked blotchy and her temper was short, and in any fight she was a screaming banshee.  Now Wilma was surprised to hear Rita confess: “I have a father.  I wish he were dead.  He’s in Leavenworth prison.  He beat mom, and that monster beat and he beat mom and he clubbed me with his fists.  We were hungry and mom went to work, any kind of work, anyway to get food and to keep us warm.  He beat her because he needed the money to buy cocaine and whiskey.  Mom tried to get help for us and the good people of Kansas acted as though it was all her fault, and that he couldn’t help it.  After all, they said, he was drunk and on cocaine.  One day she lay unconscious and I was barely alive, but he hadn’t found the money.  He killed a store clerk to get money.  That time they didn’t blame mom.  He’s serving a life sentence. 

“We got on the train and went until we had no money then she worked until we could get back on the train.  At Leadford she found a respectable job, we thank Mayor Kroust.  She cleaned his house and did the wash, and we cleaned every house or building we could.  Then Mr. Edward came along and Mayor Kroust said she was a quick study and would be a good loyal switchboard operator.  Sarah Baldy went to work, too, at the switchboard.  Her tough talk sounded good to us.  We knew the idiocy of male leadership, of masculine dominance.  We knew the mania of alcohol, the horror of drugs.  We’ve worked hard to stop the drinking, we’ve fought for equal rights, and we’ve become serious suffragettes, but we didn’t kill anybody.”

“Oh, of course not!” Wilma held her.  “Why, dear, how could any one think . . . “

“It’s the marshals, and most anybody.  But Clydis can’t think we did, nor can Clarence.  Sarah talked with Clydis to tell her that we didn’t.  But she is a woman and her man is injured, taking her time and energy.  But we know she cares.  Sarah said we, by we I mean the hellions, that’s the name they call us, but we don’t think we are, she told Clydis that we were working on the case and that we would solve it, but the Law, being men, will not listen.  They grilled me for hours.  Three times they’ve had me in that chair in their office.  When I tried to tell them they just yelled at me to tell the truth.  So I didn’t tell them anything, and I won’t!”

“Clydis talked with me on that day when I wanted to die.  That day I told her all that I could, but I don’t know that it was a solution, but rather, well, it was the beginning of a lasting wonderful friendship.”

“I’m rambling on because I couldn’t say what I need to say.  It’s about mom.  They’ll think she’s guilty, too.  They don’t know she has gone away.”

“Away?”

“When they find out, they’ll think she did it, and that poor Alexis did it.”