The woman said goodbye and sauntered back toward the rear entry of the high school.
Coach Moore turned to Helen. “Sure you want to give all of that up?”
“Yep,” she said. “My heart’s set on William Woods College so I can keep my ma happy by training nearby and going to college. What do you say? Can you make that happen?”
He winked. “I’ll try.”
38.
May 1936
Malden, Massachusetts
“THANK YOU, THESE ARE SO PRETTY,” LOUISE SAID, ACCEPTING a handful of dandelions from her young charge, Ann Clark. The five-year-old darted away on sturdy legs still pale from long winter months spent indoors and plunked herself down in the grass next to her three-year-old sister. Both girls busied themselves with building towers of pebbles. Louise held the dandelions up to her nose to smell them and inhaled the bitter tang of grass and damp earth. Springtime. With the girls immersed in play, Louise dropped the flowers into her pocket and then rubbed her hands, now sticky from the stems, along the sides of her skirt.
From across the park, Miss Francine, another domestic who minded a pair of children from the Clarks’ street, waved. Louise returned the greeting, sighing in contentment as she settled into her spot on the bench. She closed her eyes briefly to savor the steady cheerful babble of the little girls and stretch her arms overhead as she soaked in the long-awaited sunshine pouring over her. This was a precious moment of peace amid the anxiety that had been building as the Berlin Olympics neared. It was late May and Louise was still waiting for her invitation from the AAU to compete in the Olympic trials and starting to worry she wouldn’t be invited back. After the slight in Los Angeles, it seemed anything was possible.
She cracked an eye open and watched Ann and Barbara stack the pebbles carefully into a tower and then shriek in delight as the tower toppled and they began the process of rebuilding it. It never failed to amaze her that she had been working for Mrs. Clark for four years now.
When she had first arrived as a housemaid, the oldest daughter, Beatrice, was still too young to attend school, but Louise barely saw the eight-year-old anymore, so busy was the girl’s school life. And now there were two more little girls: Barbara and Constance. Though still considered a housemaid, Louise oversaw Ann and Barbara for a few hours each afternoon while Mrs. Clark rested as her youngest napped. This baby, Constance, had been colicky since her birth, and still, eight months later, she often fussed and didn’t sleep through the night. Louise always looked forward to days when the weather obliged with sunshine so she could escape Mrs. Clark’s frayed nerves and leave the house with Ann and Barbara.
The years since Louise had traveled to Los Angeles had passed in a flash. When she had returned from California, embarrassed and crushed by her failure to compete, family and neighbors had been kind with their congratulations, seemingly unfazed by the fact that she had been dropped from the relay. It had been easy to slip back into her life, working and running, with little mention made of returning to school to complete her final year. For one thing, Mama and Papa counted on Louise’s wages, but there was also the unspoken acknowledgment that Uncle Freddie’s death had unmoored the family, made them concentrate on getting through each day one at a time and not ask too many hard requests of each other.
Once the shock of losing Uncle Freddie loosened its hold on Louise, she had realized what she needed to do to move ahead with a sense of purpose and hope. His death had given her the focus she needed to persist with running despite the disappointment she felt after Los Angeles. She often took out the photo he had given her and studied it before each race to remind herself that some sacrifices were bigger than her own hurt feelings.
As her parents regained their balance in the months following Uncle Freddie’s death, it was clear they weren’t going to tolerate any lapses in schooling with their younger children. Emily’s deft fingers and clever eye for design had produced good income for the family over the years since she had begun taking in piecework, but she never slacked on her schoolwork. Two years after Louise should have graduated, Emily received her high school diploma, and her sartorial capabilities led to a job offer that any girl in town would have coveted: an apprenticeship in a milliner’s studio. Emily made the most of the opportunity. As her skills increased, so did her income, not to mention her prospects. One night at a dance hall, she had caught the attention of a young man who worked as a waiter at a fancy hotel in Boston, and they had been going steady ever since. Louise couldn’t quite suppress a pang of envy over the fact that it wouldn’t be long until her sister announced an engagement, married, and moved out of their home.
Louise knew she shouldn’t feel envious. She was twenty-two and had a decent-paying job, and these days, any job was a prize. Moreover Mrs. Clark permitted her to leave work every afternoon to continue her training with Coach Quain and the Onteora Track Club. Since Los Angeles, she had continued to place well in races, even twice becoming the national champion in the 50-meter dash. After 1932, Mary Carew retired, but Louise continued to race against Olive Hasenfus. And much to the delight of Coach Quain, Louise’s younger sister Julia also joined the Onteora Track Club to run and compete, but she never appeared fixated on racing, certainly not in the way that Louise had.
Julia was clever and had a good head for numbers, but with graduation less than two months away, her future remained unclear. College was unlikely for a girl without means, especially a black girl, and without a college degree, a job as a teacher or nurse was equally unlikely.
“Lou-ise,” a familiar voice sang, interrupting Louise’s thoughts.
From the shadows of a copse of trees at the other end of the park, Julia appeared, waving as she skipped toward them. “Yoo-hoo, girls, I have some lollys for you two sweeties.”
Ann and Barbara clapped in delight at Julia’s appearance, and she handed each girl a lollipop while making a show of admiring the piles of pebbles. “My goodness, you’ve both been busy. Look at all of this,” she said, but the girls barely even registered their earlier occupation as they popped the sweets into their mouths.
“Thanks for providing distraction. Things were too peaceful here, and I was just waiting for an argument to break out,” Louise said.
“Between those two angels? I don’t believe it.” Julia laughed as she patted both girls on their little blond heads before joining Louise on the bench, a smug look on her face. “So, guess what’s happened?”
“What?”
“You know how Mrs. Jackson told me to come by for tea when I saw her at church on Sunday? I just stopped in to see her, and she’s found a job for me this summer. I’m going to leave town.”
“Really?” Louise hoped her expression looked enthusiastic, but a twinge of dread took form within her. Sometimes it felt as though everyone was moving on with their lives without her.
“Apparently her cousin owns an inn in Oak Bluffs on Martha’s Vineyard and Mrs. Jackson put in a good word for me. They’ve offered me a spot as a chambermaid until Labor Day. Usually jobs start on Memorial Day, but they’re making an exception for me, and I can come after graduation.”
“My, that’s wonderful,” said Louise, tenting her hand over her eyes, ostensibly to watch the girls, but really to hide her disappointment from Julia. Oak Bluffs. Every black girl in Massachusetts knew its significance. The small beach town had become a summer haven for well-heeled black families. Judges, physicians, entertainers, even politicians, anyone who was anyone went to Oak Bluffs. After spending a summer there, Julia would return with connections and possibilities. Who knew what doors would open for her?