The Curious Swan

by Kenzie Hart

  “I’m happy your grandmother went into London,” Eddie says with a wide grin.

  Klara’s fingers rest on his shoulders, and she slides them across his collarbone from start to the little tip at the end of his shoulders.

  “I’m quite happy about it, too,” Klara replies, placing a kiss on his freckled nose. She looks between Edward’s eyes and is met with playfulness in them. “I’ve been so distracted, I almost forgot to tell you. Grandmother is planning a birthday party for me this upcoming weekend, and of course, I want you there. Will you be free to attend?”

  “I wouldn’t miss it,” he replies, pulling Klara closer to him.

  “It will be a delightful evening. Grandmother let me choose the theme I wanted, and this year, I’ve decided upon magic!”

  “That sounds intriguing. Is there anything you would like for your birthday?” Eddie asks, still holding her in the water.

  “I just want you to be there with me,” she replies, pushing Edward’s hair back out of his eyes. “You know, with your hair wet like this, it looks almost gelled back. You look quite dashing.”

  “It’s why you love me, yeah? Because of my devilish good looks?” he says with a grin.

  “Of course,” Klara replies with a giggle, going along with him. “Your charming personality and kindness have nothing to do with it.”

  “I thought not,” he says back, pressing his lips against hers.

  “Do you ever wonder why people aren’t more fascinated by clouds?” Klara asks as they lie out in the grass, drying off.

  “Not really,” he replies, squinting his eyes up at the sky. “But you do?”

  “I do. I mean, they’re actually floating. Isn’t that just extraordinary to think about? There are these floating things hanging above us, yet people manage to think there isn’t magic in the world,” Klara replies. It always surprises her that, of all the people she has come to meet over her lifetime, more of them don’t seem as fascinated by the things that can hold her attention for hours.

  “You think clouds are magical?” Eddie asks, watching the puffy white bodies floating above him.

  “I think they are. And I think more people would, too, if they weren’t something that we saw so often.”

  “Do you feel that way about many other things?” Eddie asks, but he already knows the answer. Of course she does.

  Klara nods her head. “I do. We tend to never see the magic in things even if it is right in front of us. I’ve always wondered if that’s our plight. To be surrounded by magic and not have the eye to see it.”

  Eddie’s taken aback by her answer. It’s extremely mature and wise for someone who seems to have her head in the clouds. But he says honestly, “The more time I spend with you, the more I think magic does exist. Maybe not in the fairies-are-real and wands-really-work sort of way but in real magic.”

  Eddie turns his head, looking toward Klara. Her hair is tangled into the grass, and besides the fact that she is only in her knickers, she looks quite the same as she did the first day he met her—like an angel. Her eyes are closed, but a content smile stays on her face as she absorbs every ounce of sunlight one person can. Quite truthfully, she likely absorbs even more because she is radiant. The creamy skin she first had when they met has darkened from their days spent outside, making her cool blue eyes and light hair stand out even more.

  Eddie trails his eyes over her figure, feeling that, if there were such a thing as a good time to die, this would be it. It’s as if he is already in heaven, lying hand in hand beneath the morning sun with the girl he loves.

  “So, tell me more about your party.” He runs his finger back and forth over the top of Klara’s hand.

  “Well, Grandmother has agreed to have performers and sparklers. She is even going to have her psychic do tarot cards and palm readings for the guests,” Klara says happily.

  “It sounds as though it will be quite the affair,” he replies, still mindlessly watching the clouds.

  “To be sure. Father has even agreed to come this year.”

  “Was he not at your party last year?” Eddie asks, turning to look at her again.

  “Unfortunately, he couldn’t make it. But it will be lovely to have him this year. I’ve seen him already once this summer, and my party will be the second time. Then, of course, he will attend Grandmother’s summer’s end party.”

  “I’m sorry he isn’t here more,” Eddie says, still rubbing her hand.

  Klara laces her fingers through Edward’s, holding on to him tighter.

  “It’s all right. It’s better to have him here less and happy when he is than more often and worked up. If it brings Father pain to be here, I don’t want that. I’m just grateful he can make it for important days, like my birthday,” Klara says, squeezing her free hand into the grass. Even though what she said is true, it doesn’t make the pain that goes along with it any more bearable.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  “Grandmother,” Klara sings out as she steps into Cordelia’s room.

  The curtains are pulled shut, making it darker than it ought to be. A few candles are lit and placed upon her dressing table.

  “Patience, child,” Cordelia replies from behind her dressing screen. She’s almost gotten into her gown for the evening, but she is struggling with the final clip.

  Klara takes a seat on a tufted chair beside the window, feeling an urge to pull the curtains wide open.

  “Grandmother, why is it so dark in here? And stuffy,” Klara asks, taking in the leftover scent of incense. It’s as though the room hasn’t been aired out in days even though Klara was just in there the day before, propping open the window for a good half hour.

  “I wanted to set the mood,” Cordelia replies.

  With Klara’s party not starting till almost sunset, it will be a late evening full of surprises. They have planned for a cocktail hour on the lawn with performers and magicians moving throughout the guests. She brought in a planner to prepare the dining room, and it has been fully transformed. Candles weigh down the table, and the chairs are covered in dark slips. Everything has a dark tone to it, and Cordelia feels it’s fitting. It’s magical, just as Klara wanted but in a new way. It marks a time in Klara’s life when she seems to be growing up. Moving from childhood to adulthood. Her seventeenth birthday is the start of her final year at the Kentwood Estate—at least, that’s what Cordelia hopes. She now has a boyfriend and is growing into quite the young woman.

  Cordelia emerges from behind the screen in a floor-length deep purple gown. It’s embroidered with black and gold thread, and it nicely flows over her figure.

  “Grandmother,” Klara says, sucking in a breath. “You look divine!”

  Cordelia walks in front of the mirror to take in her appearance and is content. She does look quite posh.

  “Now, how would you like your hair styled? I think it might look quite nice with a twist in the back. A few tendrils hanging down in the front. Your dress is so breathtaking, I want the focus to stay on it,” Klara suggests, standing over her grandmother, who is now seated at her dressing table. Her glasses are still perched at the end of her nose, and she extends a hand to her teacup, taking a small sip of what Klara can assume from the strong smell is not purely tea.

  Cordelia just nods, letting Klara get to work on her hair. She has to admit, it is these times that she quite enjoys with Klara. Just the two of them, appreciating one another’s company.

  “Have you seen your father today?” she asks as Klara’s hands move through her hair.

  “I haven’t seen him since breakfast. He is probably off into town, making last-minute preparations for the party,” Klara says with a wide smile. She’s so pleased that her father is here for it.

  Cordelia pinches her brows inward, her lips forming a line on her face. “I suppose you’re right.”

  Cordelia feels a twinge in her stomach, thinking about where Charles might actually be. She thought it better of him to just stay away, but Klara is too excited for her to say any
thing about the matter. As long as he keeps his composure and stays focused on Klara, Cordelia will be glad for him to be in attendance. But the truth of the matter is that he isn’t focused on Klara. He’s not seen her all day, excluding breakfast, and that doesn’t sit well with Cordelia. She moves her thoughts back to the present and is surprised with the topic that comes to her mind.

  “Klara, I want to discuss something with you, and only once shall we discuss it,” she says, clearing her throat.

  Klara’s eyes dart to her grandmother’s reflection in the mirror, and she feels nervous. “What is it, Grandmother?” she says, trying to continue on, pinning Cordelia’s hair.

  “Mr. Welland telephoned while I was in London. He informed me that he wanted you at Cambridge next fall, but you didn’t seem to take to the idea, and he wondered if there was anything he could do to help sway you. Is this true?” Cordelia asks, eyeing Klara in the mirror.

  Klara fumbles with a pin but quickly composes herself. “I’m not sure Cambridge is the place for me, Grandmother. It’s too far. I’d rather attend somewhere that allows me to live at home with you.”

  “I want to be extremely clear,” Cordelia says, raising her index finger into the air. “You shall not be living at home next fall to take care of me. It is not your responsibility to do so, and I will not allow it.”

  Klara’s eyes go wide for a moment. “Grandmother, I never meant for you to think that I was only staying home to take care of you. I’d never want you to think you were dependent upon me, but I like living here,” Klara says, holding her hands out. “I like living with you.”

  Cordelia breathes out a sigh. “Klara, we both know I will need help if you leave. Someone to help care for the house, care for me, but I will be in charge of finding that. It should not be your job, and you have had to do so for long enough. Now,” she says, turning to face Klara, “this means that you cannot use me as an excuse anymore. It is your seventeenth birthday, and you’re growing up. I know it can be frightening, but it is quite exciting also, is it not?”

  Klara drops her eyes. Of course it is frightening. But her grandmother is right. “It is exciting,” she finally agrees.

  “Now then,” Cordelia says, turning back round with a twinkle in her eye, “what time will Edward be arriving?”

  Klara’s face flushes, and she tries to hide it. Since their night spent together, Klara has felt like she might actually be able to walk on water.

  Cordelia notices the blush and furrows her brows. “Is everything all right, dear?”

  “Fine, thank you,” Klara replies quickly. “It’s quite warm in here, is it not?” she says, lightly fanning her face.

  “I don’t think so,” Cordelia replies, narrowing her eyes at Klara.

  Klara moves to her grandmother’s window, unhooking it, allowing in a cool breeze. It flows through the stale room, breathing life back into it and clearing Klara’s head. “Much better. Now, Edward will be arriving the same time as all our other guests. I didn’t want him to come early. I want him to get the full effect of the party.”

  “Oh, Eddie, what a thoughtful gift,” Rose says as Eddie flips the box shut. “I just know she will love it, dear.”

  “Thanks, Mum,” Eddie says, moving back in front of the mirror.

  Klara told him that, as expected, her party would be formal, and he had his mum help him steam the tuxedo Cordelia had gotten for him for her last event. Eddie is getting used to seeing himself in a tux. With his hair slicked back and shiny shoes on, he thinks he looks quite dashing. A real James Bond, if he does say so himself.

  He drops the velvet box into his pocket and tries to adjust his bow tie. It never seems to sit perfectly straight.

  “Let me,” Rose says, moving in front of her son. A smile is stuck to her face as she looks at Eddie, who seems to be quite literally growing up in front of her eyes. It feels like just yesterday when he was small enough to fit in her arms, and now, here he is, standing taller than both her and his father. She lightly pinches his cheek when she finishes fixing his bow tie. “Very handsome.”

  Eddie thanks his mum and then goes into the kitchen with her, peeking at the clock. “I’m not sure when I’ll be back. It sounds like it will be a full night of events.”

  “Here, take these for Klara,” she says, grabbing a handful of flowers. The bouquet is wrapped in brown paper, and Rose hands him a small card along with it.

  “You didn’t have to do this, Mum,” Eddie replies.

  “I know, but Klara is a wonderful girl. Let her know we are thinking about her.” Rose smiles. She hoped she might be invited, seeing as it is to be quite the affair. But she is sure, eventually, they will all get together for a celebration sometime or another.

  Eddie kisses his mum on the forehead. “See you later, yeah?”

  He is already out front and closing the door behind him when he hears his mum say good-bye.

  Klara stands in front of the mirror, putting the final piece of her outfit into place. She has on a floor-length cream-colored gauze dress with small golden stars hand-stitched onto the fine material. The thick straps jut down to meet at the seam of her waist, leaving a large portion of her décolleté uncovered.

  Klara pinned sparkling gold star clips into her curling hair, and it is gently pulled back with a few tendrils hanging down into her face. She had fun with the makeup her grandmother had gotten for her, and she covered her eyelids in shimmery powder. The only jewelry she has on is a curved armband embellished with small jewels.

  Looking in the mirror, Klara feels different. She actually feels older this year, and it’s a unique feeling. She’s not sure whether she likes it or not, but it is new nonetheless and apparently here to stay. After giving herself an approving nod, she leaves her room with a lightness in her step.

  Mindlessly running her hands along the wallpapered hallway, her fingers find the familiar door that she passes each day. But, today, something is different, for the door to her mother’s room is cracked open.

  “Hello?” Klara asks, pushing the door ajar and allowing a sliver of light into the room. It’s then she makes out a figure. “Father,” Klara gasps, taking in the state of him. His body is hunched over next to the bed, his tux wrinkled and slightly undone. His hair is disheveled, and as Klara moves into the room, she spots a bottle in his shaking hand.

  “You shouldn’t be in here, Klara,” her father replies in a shaky voice. He moves the bottle to his lips, drinking down a weighty gulp.

  “I’m sorry,” Klara stutters, her whole body feeling like it’s going to give out. “But, Father, I was worried. What are you doing in here?”

  “What does it look like?” Charles snaps, turning to look at the curse that is his daughter. She looks just the same as her mother, and it feels as though a hammer is being swung at his chest when he takes in Klara for the first time this evening.

  As Charles turns, Klara notices the tear stains running down her father’s cheeks. His heavy eyes are red, and he looks both helpless and angry. Klara takes a step back, reeling from his sharp remark.

  “I will leave you, Father. I’m sorry to have intruded,” she says, her eyes filling with tears.

  Charles wants to say something to his daughter, but he doesn’t. There isn’t a point. He is already a disappointment of a father to her, and nothing will change that. He swigs back another drink as more tears streak down his face, watching as Klara runs to the door, swinging it open wide and then slamming it shut. He hears her breath heaving on the other side of the closed door, and it feels as though a knife is stuck within his chest. With each breath, it moves slightly, digging farther into him, the pain never leaving.

  The liquor burns his throat, and he takes pleasure in the pain. If he deserves anything at all, it shouldn’t be pleasant, and of that he is quite certain. He shouldn’t have come home, but with each drink, he remembers less and less of why he was so upset in the first place.

  His body relaxes against the bed. His bed. That he shares with Evelyn. T
hat he did share. Charles’s head spins, and he pulls at the bedding, grabbing handfuls of sheets, struggling to stand. He makes it up onto two shaky feet but falls onto the bed in a heavy heap, the liquor spilling onto his tux.

  If only Evelyn were here, she would take the jacket right off him and have it cleaned in no time. She would sing as she washed it. It’s something he always loved about her. She had the voice of an angel.

  Charles closes his eyes and makes a silent wish. If my wife is an angel, I wish she weren’t watching over me now. Because I couldn’t bear her disappointment, too.

  Klara stands outside her mother’s door with tears streaming down her face. She knew her father was still grieving in his own way, but she didn’t realize it was to this extent. She wipes at her eyes, upset that she let her father get to her. She knows better than to think he actually meant what he said. He is hurting, as he often is, and so he lashes out. Klara moves away from the wall, leaving the support it provides.

  Klara has always done this. Picked herself up, all on her own. It’s something she learned to do after her mother died and her father left. Grandmother was grieving, too, and Klara had to provide comfort to herself. She had to be there for herself.

  And it makes her angry that what her father said made her cry. She shouldn’t let it affect her, and she normally doesn’t. It’s easier to put a bubble around yourself. To keep on safe conversations and topics that bring only happiness. But, like in all things, the darkness will always come creeping back in one way or another.

  And, today, that darkness is her father.

  Klara shakes her head and pats at her skin, trying to feel something besides the hollow hole forming in the pit of her stomach.

  Today is my birthday.

  Klara has friends and extended family all surely waiting on her outside and a party to attend. And she has Edward.