Darcy never meant to deceive. It all started with the telegram she sent her family when she was on her way for her interview in Topeka. When she was immediately hired and started her training, she had no time to write an explanatory letter about her change of occupations. So she had sent a second telegram simply stating that she was working in Topeka, that another letter would follow.
However, the letter that was to follow was put off for weeks. After she returned to Emporia as a full-fledged Harvey Girl, Darcy was kept busy in her new job. But not that busy. The real reason why she procrastinated was because she knew what her family’s reaction would be. Her mother would be horrified, Auntie Sadie shocked, and most of all, Aunt Maude and Uncle Henry would be mortified that a niece of theirs, someone in their social position, had stooped to the job of waitressing in what they thought of as the Wild West.
Still, it had to be done. She could not put it off any longer. They’d be worried sick not to hear from her in so many weeks. So she finally made herself sit down and write this long postponed letter.
Dearest Mama, Auntie Sadie, Aunt Maude, and Uncle Henry,
When I arrived in Juniper Junction, I discovered that the teaching post I assumed I would have was already filled, the male teacher already settled in. The chairman of the school board was kind enough to recommend another position to me that remained unfilled.
Here Darcy stopped writing, wondering how she would explain the drastic change of events and occupation. She’d always been good at composition in school, using her imagination sometimes to embellish facts and enhance her subject matter. Almost without thinking, Darcy put this talent to use. Dipping her pen in the inkwell, she began again.
I find the new position very challenging and interesting.
That was true enough. She didn’t need to outline the exact nature of her job, did she?
I am rooming with a delightful girl, Clemmie Miller, who is most congenial, and we get along really well. She has lived here for nearly a year and is helping me get settled and introducing me to people.
Darcy stopped again, wondering how to continue.
She sings in the choir of a local church and has asked me to attend services with her next Sunday.
There! That ought to please and satisfy every member of her family.
You can write and mail me packages to general delivery here.
Before signing and sealing the letter, she added,
I know you will be relieved to know how well situated I am, how much I like my work, and that I have made good friends. I am not at all sorry about my decisions—any of them.
That should take care of the Grady issue, Darcy thought as she continued writing.
I believe this will be a wonderful learning experience and that this coming year will prove to be the best of my life so far. Please don’t worry about me. I assure you I am in very good health and happily enjoying my new surroundings, new friends. This is all a great adventure.
As she addressed the envelope, Darcy prided herself that although she had skirted around the facts, given no exact details, there was nothing untrue about anything she had written.
Then why did she still feel guilty? She closed her eyes for a minute, picturing the Beehive’s front porch shadowed by wisteria vines. There Grandma Bee and Darcy’s mother and aunts sat on rush-seated rockers in the long afternoons doing needlework, returning the deferential greetings of neighbors as they passed by. Afterward discussing each one, not always in complimentary terms. Aunt Maude in particular always had something to say about everyone. Their clothes, their husbands, their housekeeping, their cooking, their children, their position in Willowdale society. Darcy winced, remembering how she had listened and sometimes even joined in, making comments that were just as critical. It made her ashamed that she had used her wit in such ways. She realized she had changed since she left Willowdale, became a Harvey Girl. Here such gossip wouldn’t be tolerated. Here everyone was accepted equally.
Her family had standards by which they measured everyone else. In their opinion most people fell short in one way or another. There was no question in Darcy’s mind as to how they would react to her being a waitress. She smiled at her imaginary picture of their exaggerated response to such news. “A waitress! What on earth can she be thinking?” Fainting spells requiring smelling salts, or a sick headache with cologne-soaked cloths applied to the forehead, would follow! Maybe she was doing them all a kindness by not telling them. Protecting them from the flood of prestige-damaging gossip that would swirl around them if the truth were known.
Besides, in a year’s time she would be home, and no one would be the worse for her fiction. She might be able to turn the whole episode into a humorous story.
She mailed the letter feeling sure that her mother, aunts, and uncle would not only be glad to hear from her but also rest easy that she was safe and happy. That was the message she hoped would be passed on to Grady, to whom she had no intention of writing.
Most of the time Darcy could live her daily life as a Harvey Girl without too much pricking of her conscience. The fact that she was keeping her employment as a waitress secret from her family bothered her only occasionally. Sometimes late at night when she was falling asleep, the thought would strike and she would come wide awake. She would cringe. Being exposed as a liar was her biggest fear. The longer she let it go, the harder it became to tell the truth. However, except for those times, Darcy found it easy to make excuses, justify what she’d done. Wasn’t she protecting her family from malicious or petty gossip?
All these doubts and questions came sharply into focus one day when she was taking a break between the arrivals of trainloads of passengers. Darcy was curled up on her bed, reading one of Clemmie’s copies of the Ladies’ Home Gazette, when Clemmie came into their dormitory room.
“Here’s your mail. I picked it up when I got mine,” she said, tossing Darcy a bunch of letters.
When she was in Topeka in training, Darcy had sent a notice to the post office in Juniper Junction to forward her mail in care of Harvey House. She had sent a similar notice to reroute her mail to Emporia. This was the first batch of mail she had received from Willowdale.
Sifting through the pile of envelopes, she recognized the different handwriting. Her mother’s neat cursive, Auntie Sadie’s tilted, cramped style, Aunt Maude’s strong, bold strokes, and her friend Carly Hampton’s curlicued back-hand. Which should she read first?
She decided she’d start with her mother’s, then read Aunt Maude’s, then Auntie Sadie’s, and save for last Carly’s, which she figured would be filled with the latest news of their crowd, along with Carly’s personal opinions. Maybe about Grady?
She opened her mother’s first.
My Dear Daughter,
I have thought of you every day since we put you on the train to Kansas—and to Juniper Junction, of all places. It’s too late, I know, to say anything more about your foolhardy decision. I know you acted on impulse, on the spur of the moment, but I feel in my heart it was a mistake and you will live to regret it.
Poor Grady has been here almost every day to ask about you and if we have heard anything. What can I tell him? Except that we received a telegram saying you had arrived safely and that you were checking out a change of teaching posts. I do hope the new one is to your liking. I never thought of you becoming a teacher, if the truth were known. I pictured you happily married and living just down the street. We all still think Grady is a fine young man, and without holding out false hope to him, I did try to comfort him by saying that distance and absence make the heart grow fonder. As your grandmother always says, running away from a problem never solves it. You only hurt yourself and everyone else concerned.
I do pray that when your year’s contract is completed, you may have changed your mind about Grady and want to settle down here close to your folks, where you grew up. It is my belief that happiness lies close to home, where you have friends and family who care about you and are concerned about your future. Remember the sampler that your grandmother, our dear Mama, cross-stitched that hangs in the upstairs hall? “Seek home for rest, for home is best.” Do write soon and put all my fears at ease. I pray every day for your safety and well-being.
Ever your devoted Mother
Darcy put her mother’s letter aside with a sigh. There was no point in upsetting her with the real facts. Her mother had lived all her life in Willowdale, had never traveled or known any other people than her family and close friends. She would never understand Darcy’s taking such a risk as she had!
Next she opened Aunt Maude’s letter. As she read it, she could almost hear her aunt’s strident voice.
My Dear Niece,
I do not need to tell you how dismayed we all are at your reckless decision. It was hardly a well-considered one.
You and your mother have lived with us since you were a little girl, after your father died. We opened our home to you, and we have tried to be as parents to you, protecting, guiding, advising. As you know, we strongly objected to your impulsive rejection of the upstanding young man to whom you were promised, and then your going off on your own. It is something we cannot condone. Perhaps even now you regret what you did and are properly remorseful. I hope so. It is my sincere prayer that you have now seen the error of your ways and sincerely regret all the hurt you have caused those of us who have nurtured and cherished you all these years. We expected more of you than this.
And if you are under the mistaken belief that Grady is dying of a broken heart over you, let me assure you that you have another thing coming. We saw him at the political rally and barbecue just this past Saturday, and he looked fit as a fiddle, spruced up and as good-looking as you could imagine. And don’t think all the girls in town didn’t let him know it. He was surrounded by admiring young women all day long. The applause he got after making a short speech was especially gratifying to your Uncle Henry, who as you know gave Grady his sponsorship in running for sheriff. You would have thought he was William Jennings Bryan or the president himself. Mark my words, some enterprising young lady is going to make off with him if you don’t come to your senses.
In closing, I remind you that the members of your family are not getting any younger, and in the years to come you may weep bitter tears over what you have done.
We know you have signed a contract to remain in your position for a year. But you can write a letter expressing your remorse, admit you were wrong, and apologize to all of us. Grady certainly deserves that much. That’s the least you can do.
Your concerned and caring Aunt Maude
Darcy suppressed a groan. Aunt Maude certainly was an expert in pouring on the guilt, rubbing salt in the wound. She folded the thin stationery pages and replaced them in the envelope. If Aunt Maude hoped the result would be a penitent Darcy’s return of a letter thick with apologies, she was wrong. In fact, it spurred Darcy’s intention to write the most enthusiastic letter she could compose about her new life—of course, leaving out the basic fact that she was actually waitressing instead of teaching.
Auntie Sadie’s note was typical of the childlike, sweet-natured creature she was, the exact opposite of her older sister Maude.
Oh, my darling Darcy, how we do miss you! The house seems so empty without the sounds of your laughter, your footsteps running up the stairs, your singing when you were happy—which was most of the time, until that last week and your tiff with Grady. Well, I guess it was more than a tiff, wasn’t it? I wept many times recalling how I tried to get you to forgive him, not burn all your bridges behind you. But it was of no use. You wouldn’t listen; your mind was made up. And I understand that. Believe me, nobody could convince me that I was wrong when I broke my engagement. Looking back long years ago, it was over as simple a thing as seeing Milford kissing Lucyanne McCall under the mistletoe at the Christmas party. But I was young and he was my first love, and we had made each other all sorts of promises, and most of all I had kissed him! And allowed him to kiss me! Many times! And in those days that was serious business, let me tell you. Anyway, I did regret it, and I wanted to save you those same feelings of wishing you had it to do over.
No matter what Maude may tell you, Grady is moping around town with a woebegone expression. I’m sure he’s wishing he’d never agreed to run for sheriff, for all the attention he’s getting.
If you can, try to remember, “The course of true love never runs smooth,” and maybe when you’ve both had time enough to think about it, you might change your mind and somehow get back together when you come home to Willowdale. Oh my, a year seems so long, darling, but remember, nothing is forever. Take care and stay well and remember, your doting Auntie Sadie keeps you in her loving thoughts and prayers always.
Darcy had to brush away a few tears after reading this. Auntie Sadie was such a dear.
Last of all she opened her friend Carly’s letter with anticipation.
The first part was full of comments about social events Darcy was missing—a graduation, a square dance, and a church box supper—and what Carly had worn to these occasions. Then she began telling Darcy how she admired her for the daring adventure she had undertaken.
You always were so brave. I remember how you always took a dare. Even from the boys when we were in grammar school. Like the time you jumped off the toolshed roof, and the other time you climbed old Mr. Sander’s tree to shake down apples for the rest of us, and he came out with his pitchfork, shaking his fist and yelling. You never blinked an eyelash. Just stood there, hands on your hips, sweet-talking him. I think you told him everyone said he grew the best apples in the county, ought to win first prize at the fair! You always got away with whatever you did. I guess that’s what I envy about you most.
I guess you want to know what everybody in Willowdale is saying about you. It’s plenty, let me tell you. The thing most of the girls say is that you were a fool to break your engagement to Grady. He is really the center of attention now. You have to admit, he’s really good-looking. And lately he’s been dressing up. Somebody must be buying his clothes for him at Taber’s Dry Goods and Clothing Store. He’s wearing Texasstyle boots and a wide-brimmed Stetson hat. I hope that doesn’t make you mad to hear. He doesn’t look a bit down in the mouth. How could he? Someone’s always clinging on his arm, looking up at him adoringly, hanging on his every word. Maybe that’s what it takes to get to be sheriff? I don’t know what you’re feeling right now, but I still admire you for having the gumption to leave Willowdale and see the world. I can’t much see you as a teacher, but there must be some social life where you are. I always read in western romances that a schoolmarm is popular and has lots of ranchers, cowboys, and such courting her. I know you’ll have lots to tell me when you write. So please do write. You must have some time of your own after correcting papers and paddling kids (I’m teasing; you probably are the nicest teacher in the world). Good luck anyhow. I’ll try to keep you posted on our town’s doings—and the outcome of the election, for sure.
Darcy smiled as she finished Carly’s letter. If her friend knew the truth, she would know that there was not much social life here. At least for Harvey Girls, since they were discouraged from socializing with restaurant customers or members of the staff.
Mostly Darcy was too busy to think much about or miss the active social life she had enjoyed in Willowdale.
No one here knew or cared about the privileged place she and her family had in Willowdale. She was accepted as one of them. It was nice not to be valued by a small town’s measuring stick. She knew her friends, like Carly, would be astonished if they knew what she was doing. No amount of explaining would make them understand how well-thought-of the Harvey Girls were. For the time being, heavy as it lay on her heart, Darcy felt it was better to keep it secret.
“Good news from home?” Clemmie asked as Darcy gathered up her letters and started to put them in the drawer of her bedside table.
Darcy shrugged. “Nothing special.”
“I got a letter from my mom,” Clemmie said. “Mostly telling me about what the boys are doing. Makes me kinda homesick. But not very. Thinking about my chores back there makes our job here at Harvey House seem a snap.” Clemmie laughed. “Mom isn’t much for writing, but she sent the new copy of the Ladies’ Home Gazette. There are some good stories in it this time. Can’t wait to read the next installment of ‘The Ghost of Highland Castle.’”
Both girls were avid fans of the romantic mystery serial that was published in the weekly women’s magazine.
“When I finish, I’ll give it to you to read,” Clemmie promised and settled back against her pillows with the issue.
Much as Darcy tried to deny it, the letters from home had their effect. Her conscience pinched hard. No matter that her days were so full, from the minute she and Clemmie got up in the morning, served the first trainload of passengers, cleaned up their stations, and got ready for the next, until they dropped into bed at night, that she didn’t seem to have a spare moment. Writing such a complicated letter of explanation became harder and harder.
Sometimes she lay sleepless at night, asking herself how she had ever got into this mess. Where along the way had not telling the truth become an easy habit so that keeping this big secret had seemed justifiable? All the dozens of little white lies she had told through the years came back to disturb her. Excuses for being late, forgetting an errand, not turning in homework, not accepting an invitation—all mounted up to dishonesty. A habit of fudging on the truth built up over the years. Darcy’s cheeks burned in the dark of their dormitory bedroom. She felt so guilty, while in the next bed Clemmie slept the sleep of the innocent. She wanted to change; she was trying. But how to undo what she had already done?