Confessions to Mr. Roosevelt by M. J. Holt

Author:M. J. Holt
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Gale, Cengage Learning
Published: 2019-06-10T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 14

IVY

Ivy Hamilton sat in the passenger seat, looking like an excited girl. Ellen worried she had done too much. Before having lunch at the woman’s house, the morning was spent in the church basement, handing out clothes. Audrey had her dress, beige cotton with a simple white collar, and Ellen, pressed by Ivy to take a navy print recently donated by Agatha’s daughter in Topeka, found herself with an almost-new dress.

Ellen met the other women working at the clothing bank. Frances Teller, wife of the minister and mother of five grown sons, was in her element, helping out in the men’s clothing section. Agatha’s daughter-in-law Carol manned children’s clothing. As Ellen watched her put mothers at ease and shower attention on shy girls and reluctant boys, she thought the woman couldn’t be more different from Ivy’s daughter-in-law, who stood stationed at a long table laden with shoes of every type and size, slips and girdles, hats and handbags. From her little command post, Constance dispensed advice with an authority that brooked no contradictions. As the woman began to grate on Ellen’s nerves, she marveled that Miss Ivy had the patience to deal with the woman, day in and day out.

“Are you sure you still want to go for this drive?” Ellen asked, as Ivy made herself comfortable. “It’s been a busy day already, and the sun is beating down something fierce.”

“I’m fine. In fact, I’ve been looking forward to this little trip.”

Only partly reassured, Ellen drove downtown and took the highway south toward the river. The road was closed three miles out of town for the bridge construction, but Ivy said not to worry.

“I checked with Dell. The highway is closed just past the county road we want.”

They saw the barricades and warning signs before Ivy pointed to a gravel road off to the right. “The turn is just up there.”

Ellen slowed to a crawl. To the left in an open field, a dozen or so white canvas tents marked the CCC camp. A few men could be seen lounging in the sun or walking between the tents and the temporary wood-frame buildings that comprised the kitchen and bath facilities. But it was the construction site ahead that drew the women’s attention. A massive road grader and several farm wagons stood in line, as if ready to march when given the order. Piles of rock and sand formed hills.

“That is a lot of rock,” Ivy said, shaking her head.

Ellen agreed. “I heard someone at the courthouse say the workers have to dig even more from along the river to shore up the bridge embankments. Something about not enough bedrock and too much clay and sand.” She made a slow turn down the country road, which had once been nothing more than a wagon track following the natural break between woods on the left along the river and open prairie on the right.

Ivy warned Ellen it had been some time since she’d been this way, and the soddie had been going to pieces even then.

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