Lady Blues

by Aaron Paul Lazar

  Siegfried came in from outside, looking excited. “Is it time for dinner? I am starving.” He peered into the great room and his eyes swung to Lily.

  I heaved a huge sigh. I’d just made it. “Yep, it’s about ready. Could you set the table, big guy?” I hunted for serving dishes. After laying them out, I uncorked two chilled bottles of Keuka Springs Vignoles wine and handed them to Siegfried.

  Our guests began to arrive three minutes later.

  ***

  The house filled quickly. Joe Russell arrived with Maddy. She entered with armfuls of wedding magazines. Bursting into the kitchen in a floral cloud of perfume, she wore a bright, checkered pink skirt and sweater. Her jewelry—a chunky silver medallion and jangling charm bracelet—flashed in the afternoon light. She clattered into the kitchen in pointy high heels.

  Squeezing me to her, she smooched my cheek with loud smacking sounds. “Gus, honey. It smells great in here!”

  I returned her hug and took her jacket. “Thanks, Maddy. Camille’s at the computer with Lily. Why don’t you go introduce yourselves?”

  Joe took her arm and steered her into the great room.

  Siegfried set out the wine glasses for each adult except Joe Russell, who had been fighting alcoholism for the past decade. Just as I finished carrying food out to the hot plates on the buffet, tires crunched on the driveway. Reverend Nahum Hardina breezed in and quickly headed to our new guest, offering comforting words to Lily.

  Minutes later, after I finished filling our water glasses, the sound of little feet on the stairs announced my grandchildren’s descent.

  My daughter Freddie arrived looking frazzled, with the twins in tow. She grabbed bibs from the kitchen drawer. “Is Adam here yet?”

  “Not yet,” I said.

  Another patrol car rolled into the driveway, and I corrected myself. “Spoke too soon. There he is. And the Stones are coming up right behind him.”

  Freddie brightened, smoothed her hair and clothes, and hurried to greet him. His face flushed with anticipation, and she flew into his arms, nearly knocking him down. “Adam,” she whispered. “I was so worried.”

  I cocked one eyebrow and looked at him with a question in my eyes.

  “A guy was holed up in the Heights,” he said. “Had his mother and sister in there with him. But we talked him out. It ended quietly.”

  Before he could explain further, Johnny, Marion, and Celeste dove for his legs, clinging to him so tightly he could barely walk.

  “Thank God you’re all right,” Freddie said, shepherding the children into the dining room. “Okay. Let go of Adam, now. Let’s go get into our seats.” With Adam’s help, she corralled them.

  So that I wouldn’t have to worry about it later, I decided to get the dessert plates ready ahead of time. “Let’s see. Seven in our family, plus Maddy and Joe. That makes nine. Adam and Nahum make eleven. And the Stones… thirteen.”

  I rummaged around in the drawer to find thirteen dessert forks. None matched, but I’d given up on that years ago.

  The kitchen door opened, revealing my surrogate parents, Oscar and Millie Stone. My parents had died the same year Oscar and Millie lost their son, William, in Viet Nam. We’d mutually adopted each other and grieved together, finding great comfort in the fellowship.

  Oscar stooped over Millie’s wheelchair handles, his silky white hair falling over his eyes. His lips pursed in his characteristic wry smile and he rolled the chair into the kitchen. “Smells good enough to eat, don’t-you-know?” he chuckled. It was our standing joke.

  “I hope so, Oscar,” I laughed. “Or the dogs will have a heck of a feast tonight.”

  Millie sat quietly in her wheelchair, gazing at her husband with love in her eyes. She patted her short curls and lifted a shaky hand to mine. “Hello, Gus, dear.”

  I took her gnarled fingers and kissed them. “Hi, Millie. How’s the pain today?”

  She pressed my hand. “I’m all right, Gus. This changing weather does a job on my old bones, but I’m still here, and that’s what counts, don’t-you-know?”

  I laughed. “It sure is.”

  Oscar bent down to whisper in Millie’s ear. “Lady, I don’t think your bones are old at all. They’re still quite lovely.”

  She laughed and swatted him. “Oscar! You stop those lies now, you flatterer, you.”

  Watching them flirt, I took their coats and directed them to the dining room. The family migrated toward the table like a noisy flock of Canada geese, scraping back chairs, clinking ice in glasses, scooping food onto their plates, and babbling all at the same time. Snatches of conversation filled the air.

  “I have ideas for your wedding dress, Freddie. I brought my wedding magazines.” Maddy pointed to the dog-eared pile on the coffee table.

  Freddie barely concealed an expression of mild annoyance. She and Adam wanted a simple wedding, something rural and remote. I didn’t think she’d settle for a gunnysack dress, but knew it wouldn’t be voluminous and lacy.

  “Sit still, Marion. I can’t fasten your bib!” Adam said, grinning as he tried to stem the energy of the two-year-old.

  My wife and Lily joined us last.

  Camille offered Lily the seat next to her. She filled a plate with food and set it before her, urging her to begin with hand motions. “Go ahead. It’s okay.”

  Lily picked up her fork and looked at it apprehensively.

  It occurred to me that she might not be used to big slabs of meat and Western utensils. I approached her and leaned over to take her plate, intending to cut it into smaller pieces and maybe get her one of the sets of chopsticks I kept in the kitchen.

  When I rested a hand on her shoulder, she winced in pain.

  “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry, Lily. Are you okay?”

  Siegfried, across the table, looked puzzled.

  Lily hung her head, flushing. Thankfully, no one else seemed to notice amidst the raucous hubbub.

  I backed away and turned to Camille. “Honey? Maybe Lily would like her food in smaller pieces. You know, something that can be managed with chopsticks.”

  Camille looked at Lily and immediately understood. “Of course! She may never have used a fork. Why don’t you get that set you brought home from the Thai Dragon? They’re in the—”

  “I’m on it,” I said, loping toward the kitchen. I returned in a flash and watched as Camille motioned toward the plate as if to ask for permission to cut the turkey into small pieces. Lily nodded, and when it was done, she accepted the chopsticks with a smile and began to eat.

  ***

  The rest of dinner passed without incident, and by the time we finished, a wave of exhaustion hit me. Shelby offered to clear the table, Freddie and Adam insisted on doing the dishes, and Siegfried was drafted to play with the children. Joe and Maddy settled on the sofa, sipping coffee and snuggling together, browsing through the bridal magazines. At least Maddy browsed. Joe just nodded and said, “Uh-huh,” every few seconds.

  Nahum and the Stones said their goodbyes early, as usual, and Camille returned to the computer with Lily. Soon their fingers were tapping away in an interesting rhythm of back and forth keyboard sharing.

  I watched Lily, wondering what had happened to her. The lash marks Camille saw on her back must have been recent, based on the way she jumped at my touch.

  I plopped onto my favorite leather chair and slid off my shoes, wiggling my toes and sighing. I’d eaten too much and wanted to unbuckle my belt, but knew Camille would disapprove.

  When Shelby finished clearing the table, she sat at the piano and plunked at the keys, singing softly and studying music propped on the stand. “Dad?” she asked. “Will you accompany me on this?”

  Delighted, I glanced up with a smile. “Sure, honey.”

  Shelby had lost interest in singing for the past few months, making frequent excuses to cancel her lessons in the city. I thought it might have been the harrowing experiences she’d suffered recently when her biological father, Camille’s ex-husband Greg, was relea
sed from prison and nearly killed her in revenge. It had taken some time for her to recover, but lately I’d seen signs of improvement. She laughed more readily, offered to help with the children, and had begun calling her friends again.

  I joined her at the piano and slid onto the bench. “What do you have in mind?”

  She pushed her long hair aside and flipped the sheet music to show me the cover. “I found this on the bench over there. It’s called ‘Bewitched, Bothered, and Bewildered.’ Do you know it?”

  “Do I know it?” I laughed. “It’s one of my favorites. Ella made this one famous.” I’d been playing Ella Fitzgerald’s CD for the past few weeks, preparing for my new book.

  “Ella?” she asked.

  I nodded, walking to the Bose player in the corner. Camille and Lily continued to huddle over the computer, oblivious to us. I stepped around the twins and Johnny, who climbed on Siegfried, clamoring for horsy rides. Max followed them around, madly wagging his tail. Boris and Sheba snored on the rug beside Camille, and Maddy and Joe snuggled on the couch, still flipping through her magazines, although Joe’s bored expression spoke volumes.

  “Just a second,” I said, “let me introduce you to Ella Fitzgerald.”

  We sat on the piano bench with our backs to the keyboard. As Ella’s velvet voice poured over us, I knew I’d never tire of the song. Her words melted into my brain and invaded my body, transporting me to a place filled with creamy satin tones, growling blues, and chilling sweet high notes.

  When the song was over, I clicked the remote and swiveled around on the bench. Shelby sat still, her eyes moist with tears.

  I began to play the accompaniment.

  She turned, shaking her head. “Dad. Stop. I’ll never be able to sing like that.”

  Maddy piped up, nudging Joe, who had fallen asleep. “Come on, Shelby. I miss your singing. Give it a try, sweetie.”

  Joe startled awake, grunted, and pretended to look with interest at the magazine. “Uh. Yeah. I like that one.”

  Maddy cackled with laughter. “You’re such a fraud, Lieutenant Russell.”

  I patted Shelby’s arm. “Honey, listen. Nobody expects you to sing like Ella.” I gently tilted her chin. “You have your own voice. You’ll have your own take on it. But what an inspiration she is, huh? Let’s try a few bars for grins.”

  Nodding, she spun on the bench and faced the music. I started slowly, emphasizing the melody to help her learn. She sang in a light voice, experimenting with techniques similar to Ella’s. Her imitation was surprisingly good, although the strength behind her voice wouldn’t mature for years. We worked on the piece for the next half hour until she felt comfortable with the music.

  Camille and Lily turned from the computer to listen. Siegfried trotted on all fours into the kitchen with three children on his broad back.

  I chuckled as they disappeared around the corner. “Ready?” I said.

  Shelby nodded, stood up, and let loose, progressively relaxing and making use of smooth portamento passages, light vibrato, and musical sighs. I played from memory, watching as she added facial nuances to match the words.

  Maddy tapped her toes on the floor, Joe stayed awake, and even Siegfried stopped to listen in the kitchen doorway, shushing Johnny and the twins.

  Chills snaked down my spine.

  What a gift she has.

  I’d thought maybe musical theater would be her venue, since she’d been interested the previous year in trying out for shows at school. But something had changed in this sixteen-year-old child/woman. Long dark curls framed her delicate heart-shaped face. Her eyes, dark and long-lashed, closed periodically to squeeze every spark of splendor from the notes.

  She stood barefoot in faded jeans and a soft yellow sweater, her young lithe arms gesturing to match the words.

  Realization hit, and I fumbled the notes.

  She isn’t a little girl anymore.

  Smooth and engaging, she exuded confidence that scared the hell out of me.

  I recovered, but felt unsettled for the rest of the night. We’d already dealt with Shelby’s boyfriends, had been horrified, worried, and traumatized like other parents, but somehow it hadn’t hit me.

  Shelby’s a young woman now.

  A shudder of fear ran through me. I remembered Freddie’s teenage years with a mixture of joy and horror. But now, did I have the strength to go through it again?

  God, help me.

  After saying goodnight to everyone, I pushed down the panic and followed Camille and the dogs up to bed.

  Chapter Eight

  Camille sat at the vanity holding her grandmother’s silver-backed hairbrush. With a fluid motion, she ran the soft bristles over her hair. I watched her from the bed, mesmerized. I decided to wait until she was ready to settle down next to me to pump her for more information on Lily.

  When she stopped mid-stroke and stared into the distance, I finally spoke up. “Honey?”

  She looked at me, as if surprised to see me already under the covers with my book. Checking the clock, she put down her brush, turned off the overhead light, and slid into bed. The soft glow of the lamp on the nightstand illuminated her face. She drew the comforter over her knees and slid toward me. “I was thinking about Lily.”

  “Me, too.” I set aside Crooked Angel, a Shannon Wallace Mystery by M. Kim Smith, and opened my arms. “I’ve been dying to know what you found out about her. Especially after what happened at dinner tonight. My God, I barely touched her, the poor woman.”

  She laid her head on my chest. “I know. She seemed to be in a lot of pain, didn’t she? I asked her if she’d like to see a doctor, but she panicked and declined. She wouldn’t say anything about it, except that it wasn’t caused by the fire.”

  “Well, that’s good. I’d hate to think she was burned and didn’t get treated.”

  “I know. But we still don’t know what’s wrong with her.” She paused for a moment. “Lily’s a very private person. It’s going to take a long time to earn her trust. She’s been isolated since they moved from Korea. Everything is still strange to her. She asked lots of questions about the computer, dishwasher, television, and even my car. She was shocked I owned it and drove it, all by my little womanly self.” Camille laughed. “It’s like she lived in the Stone Age, when women were just possessions. Apparently she and her brother lived very simply and abided by some ancient cultural rules.”

  I loosed a low whistle. “Wow.”

  “When they made the trip thirty years ago after her father died, she was only twelve. Her brother was twenty-three. They came to live with an elderly aunt in New York who had a tailor shop. That’s where they learned all their skills.”

  “She was only twelve, and she’s been working ever since?”

  “I think so. Lily didn’t go to school here in the States.” Camille sat up against the pillows. “She said they came to ‘escape.’ I haven’t been able to understand what they were running from yet. She just keeps typing, ‘We had to escape.’ It took a while for her to get really comfortable with the keyboard mapping, but after a while we were able to manage using that free translator program. She caught on very quickly. She’s so bright.”

  “So, she was in the Bronx for a long time, then. When did they move up here?”

  “About four years ago.”

  “So, what happened to the aunt?”

  “She passed away, five years ago. After seeing to her affairs, they sold her place and bought the shop here, in town.”

  I paused for a minute, lost in thought. “Why did he keep her so isolated? Didn’t she want to go outside?”

  Camille sighed and cuddled closer to me. “I’m trying to get her to talk about it. She idolizes her brother. And she’s very perplexed by our relationship—doesn’t understand why I don’t wait on you, was almost horrified that you did the cooking. She seemed to think I should be giving you a foot rub or something, instead of playing on the computer with her.”

  I chuckled and stuck one foot out of the shee
ts. “Sounds good to me.”

  Camille wrinkled her nose and exploded with laughter. “I can just see me in a geisha outfit, bowing to your every whim.”

  I pretended to ponder the vision, looking into the distance with feigned interest. “The idea does have appeal.”

  She shoved me, and snorted a laugh. “You’d love it, wouldn’t you? Me fetching your slippers and getting your pipe?”

  I slid my arms around her and pulled her face close to mine. “I don’t smoke, silly. Besides, shouldn’t Max fetch my slippers?”

  She elbowed me, laughing. “You’re hopeless.”

  With the mention of his name, Max’s ears shot up and his tail thumped on the bedspread.

  I called him closer. “What do you think, boy? Wanna learn a new trick?”

  Excited, the dog lumbered toward us and plopped onto my lap, his tail wagging in Camille’s face. She pushed it down gently and patted his back. He nuzzled my arm with his nose, encouraging me to rub his ears. When I did, his eyes closed in pleasure.

  “So, Lily’s literate? She knows how to read and write?”

  Camille nodded. “Uh huh. She went to elementary school in Korea, but when she arrived in America, they kept her out of the school system. I think she has the equivalent of a sixth grade education.”

  I grimaced. “Breaks my heart when I think of the lost opportunities. Had she been to school, who knows how far she would’ve gone? Perhaps she’d have been a teacher? Or a scientist.”

  “Well, it’s never too late. She’s only forty-two. Tomorrow I’m setting her up with the Livingston County Literacy Volunteers. They’ll start her with English lessons. Once she’s learned enough, we’ll work together until she can earn her GED, then we’ll enroll her in college.”

  Camille focused far in the future with a gleam of pride in her eyes. Although Lily had obviously become her newest “project,” I knew her motivation was driven from a sense of good will, and not from possession.

  “Whoa, wait a minute. What if she’d rather keep sewing? Maybe she’s content with her life. Have you asked her?”