Mitla Pass - Leon Uris [172]
“I love Danny,” Gideon said. “I’m glad you have each other.”
“Oh, Gideon! Put your arms around me and squeeze me as hard as you can.”
THE NEGRO STEWARD rapped on the cabin door. Leah slipped into her dressing gown and opened it.
“Your tea and toast, ma’am,” he said, “well be arriving in Baltimore in about an hour.”
Gideon climbed down from the upper bunk, splashed his face in the tiny sink, and brushed his teeth. Momma edged in, pushing him aside. She applied her makeup, a chalky powder to make her appear sallow and dark eye shadow to make her look consumptive. Gideon had seen her put on that special pasty face when she was going to have an argument with Dad, or when she applied for welfare, or a free clinic for him, or to otherwise indicate she was suffering.
“I’m going over for breakfast,” he said.
“Be careful what you order,” she said, “remember, no eggs or bacon and be sure you drink buttermilk.”
Gideon went out on the deck to catch the early morning zest in the air, as the overnight steamer from Norfolk to Baltimore chattered up the bay. The boy was still suffering badly from the death of Miss Abigail. He leaned on the railing and thought about the novel he was going to try, which would let the world know what a great woman Abigail Winters was.
Leah had laid the groundwork for her departure carefully, over a period of several months. She had ascertained that the Norfolk water was filthy, all but poisonous, the climate unfit for human habitation, and the very air filled with dangerous pollutants. All of this was far too detrimental to Gideon’s health.
Molly and Gideon had figured out the true reason for Momma’s conniving. She had had enough of her marriage to Dad. A rash of secretive phone calls from a dentist in New York indicated that the caller was interested in something more than Leah’s teeth.
Leah had been very good at securing work, not for herself, but for Nathan. She had gotten numerous jobs for him to moonlight on numerous weekends. The children realized that she did it not only to fill the perpetually bare cupboards, but to get him out of the house so she could attend to her equally numerous amorous rendezvous.
Just before school vacation, Leah informed her husband that she had obtained work for him, through relatives, in Pittsburgh for the entire gold rush season. As soon as he headed north, Leah began packing and gave as her reason the unhealthy climate, water, and conditions in Norfolk.
At first she refused to allow Molly to remain, but when Molly threatened to spill the beans to Nathan, she relented.
Many times Gideon had traveled on the Old Bay Line to Baltimore. It was mostly fun. He and Uncle Dominick took in a lot of ball games at Oriole Park. It was big-time stuff, a triple-A team, just under the major leagues. There were concerts and opera at the Lyric Hall and sometimes some real good touring plays at the Ford Theater. His cousins were neat and he particularly liked Uncle Lazar, who had been a Marine, and Lazar’s big-busted French wife, Aunt Simone.
As they eased into the Baltimore basin, Leah’s hand danced nervously on her son’s shoulder. The President Warfield turned toward her berth and was deftly maneuvered dockside and the gangplank rolled into position.
“There she is!” Leah called. “Momma! Momma! Here I am.”
Bubba Hannah saw them and waved vigorously as they disembarked.
“Momma! Momma!”
Hugs! Tears!
“Gideon! Look at how that boy has grown.”
“He’s a sick child. Norfolk was killing him. Thank God we’re here.”
“Come, come, Leah. Lazar brought his car. It’s parked on the other side of the pier.”
THE LITTLE RED brick row house with the white marble steps on Monroe Street seemed smaller to Gideon and more jammed than he remembered. What space would there be for him? How could he write with other people sleeping in the room?
Zayde Moses barely looked up from his sewing in the front-room