Cutler 05 - Darkest Hour

taking Louella and her things to Upland Station where she would begin to make the connections that would take her to her sister in South Carolina. He loaded her trunks on the wagon while all the workers and servants gathered around to say farewell. Everyone had grown to love Louella and there were tears in most everyone's eyes, some of the chambermaids, especially Tottie, crying openly.
    "Now y'all see here," Louella declared when she stepped out on the porch, her hands on her hips. She wore her Sunday church clothes and her bonnet. "I ain't going to my grave. I'm just going to lend a hand to my older sister who's retired and retire myself. Some of you are crying because you're just jealous," she flared and there was a ripple of laughter. Then she stepped off the porch and hugged and kissed them all and sent them off to begin their daily chores.
    Papa had said his good-bye the night before when he had called her into his office to give her money toward her retirement. I stood nearby the door and.
    I heard him formally thank her for being a good household servant, loyal and honest. His tone of voice was cold and official, even though she had been at The Meadows so long she could recall him as a young boy.
    "Of course," he said at the end, "I wish you good luck and a healthy, long life."
    "Thank you, Mr. Booth," Louella said. There was a short pause and then I heard her say, "If I could just say one thing, sir, before I leave."
    "Yes?"
    "It's Mrs. Booth, sir. She don't look and act good to me. She's pining away over her dead little girl and . . ."
    "I'm very well aware of Mrs. Booth's ridiculous behavior, Louella, thank you. She will come to her senses soon, I'm sure, and go on with her life and be a mother to our other children, as she should, as well as a wife to me. Don't let it concern you a moment more."
    "Yes sir," Louella said, her voice dripping with disappointment.
    "Well then, good-bye," Papa concluded. I hurried away from the door so Louella wouldn't know I had been eavesdropping.
    Now, when I stepped down to say my good-bye, I couldn't help the flow of tears. It was as if a dam had burst.
    "Don't you go making Louella feel terrible now, honey. I got me a long trip ahead and a new tough row to hoe. You think it's going to be easy, two old women, set in their ways, living together in a tiny house? No sir, no sir," she said.
    I smiled through my tears.
    "I'll miss you, Louella . . . terribly."
    "Oh, I expect I'll miss you too, Miss Lillian." She turned around and looked up at the plantation house. Then she sighed. "I expect I'll miss The Meadows a great deal, miss every corner of every cabinet and closet. A lot of laughter and a lot of tears been heard and been wrung between those there walls."
    She turned back to me.
    "You be nice to the new help and watch over your Mamma best you can and just tend to your own business. You growing into a beautiful young lady. It's just a matter of time now before some handsome gentleman comes calling and sweeping you off, and when that happens, you remember old Louella, hear? Send me a note and tell me. Promise?"
    "Of course, Louella. I'll write you often. I'll write you so much, you'll get tired of it."
    She laughed. She hugged and kissed me and then she took one more look at The Meadows before letting Henry help her into the carriage. It was only then that I realized Emily hadn't even bothered to come down to say good-bye to her, though she, just like me, had known her all her life.
    "Ready?" Henry asked her. She nodded and he tapped the horses. The carriage started forward, down the long avenue of cedars. Louella looked back and waved with her handkerchief. I waved back, but my heart felt so hollow and my feet so numb, I thought I might faint with sorrow. I stood there and watched until the wagon was out of sight and then I turned and slowly walked back up the stairs to enter the house that had become a lot more empty, a lot more lonely, a lot less home.

 
    PART TWO

 
    9
GOOD NIGHT, SWEET PRINCE
     
    Charles Slope and his wife Vera, the woman who Papa hired to replace Louella, were pleasant enough people, and their infant son Luther was sweet, but I couldn't help the emptiness I felt in my heart. No one could ever replace Louella. Vera was an excellent cook, however, and although she made things differently, they always tasted good; and Charles was certainly a hard worker who gave Henry the relief and assistance he needed at his age.
    Vera was a tall woman in her late