The Time of the Fireflies

by Kimberley Griffiths Little

  “Uncle Edgar!” she cried. “I’m so glad you’re finally back home!”

  “And I saw that, you little watermelon thief,” he chided, tugging on her green hair ribbon.

  Miss Anna spun in her lace party dress, a swirl of color in the breeze. “I can have whatever I want, Uncle Edgar, and you can’t stop me.”

  He rocked back on his heels, amused at her sassiness. “Is that right?”

  Anna lifted her chin. “I’ve been waiting all day for the barbecue to start, and now I’m going to have one of everything. Or two!”

  “You’ll get so fat we’ll have to roll you upstairs to bed,” her uncle told her, grabbing a plate and beginning to load it with barbecued pork.

  The sound of talk and dishes grew louder as the family and their guests crowded the tables to load their china plates. Then the men sat on blankets spread around the lawn, talking about the weather and the price of sugarcane, while the women perched on chairs under a wide tent awning, eating daintily with forks and knives.

  “Where’s my fan?” Miz Julianna asked. “It’s getting quite hot, isn’t it?”

  “The humidity rises as the afternoon lingers,” one of her friends said. “A true sign that summer is here to stay.”

  Dulcie’s mother came over with a fan and opened it for her mistress. “Thank you, Beatrice,” Miz Julianna told her, quickly waving the fan, which set the wisps of curls around her face to dancing. “At least the sun is beginning to set. There will be shade soon.”

  “I don’t know how the boys can run around playing ball,” the young woman with the white parasol remarked, glancing at Uncle Edgar, who had started talking about his travels. She set down her half-eaten plate on the table. “Mr. Normand, if you’re going to tell stories, you must regale the entire group. We all want to hear how you survived the jungles of South America. Or Africa. Or Arabia. I declare I never know where you’re going next.”

  “Miss Sally Blanchard,” Edgar said with a small dip of his head. “This time I visited the islands of the Caribbean. I danced half dressed with the natives and then hollered like I was possessed by a banshee when we danced for their voodoo ceremony.”

  Miss Sally’s eyes grew wide. So did Anna’s. Mine did, too, actually.

  “I’m trying to picture you wearing nothing but a grass skirt, Edgar,” one of the men said with a laugh. The two men looked quite a bit alike and I wondered if he was Anna’s father. “I’ve seen folks do that down in Jackson Square in New Orleans. Dancing until they’re exhausted, and then smashing their brandy bottles on a tree.”

  Miz Julianna shook her head at her husband. “Oh, hush, Blaine. Not in front of the children.”

  “But I want to hear, Daddy!” Anna burst out. Her mother raised her eyebrows, and Anna sank back into her chair, but her blue eyes were alive with curiosity as she drank up every word. “Is that really what they do, Uncle Edgar?”

  He nodded. “The tribal people do, especially in the countries of the Dominican Republic where they practice the religion of Vodou, as they call it. They believe they receive spiritual power if the spirits possess their body during the wild dances. They have the potential to see visions and gain wisdom. It’s quite enthralling, actually.”

  Anna practically fell off her chair. “Did you see visions or spirits, Uncle Edgar?”

  He cracked a grin. “Only the spirits of too much liquor, I’m afraid.”

  Julianna Normand gave her husband a meaningful look. “There are children present,” she murmured again.

  “Did you like living on the islands, Mr. Normand?” Miss Sally Blanchard asked.

  Uncle Edgar snapped his suspenders. “The beaches are stunning, the culture fascinating. But I left because the islands are rather dangerous at the moment. They speak French like most folks do here in Louisiana, but the Germans and British and French are fighting each other for occupancy, and an entire group of Syrian Arabs are living there and wanting to control the government. There was a plot that resulted in the Presidential Palace being destroyed, so I finally came home. My hide is worth more than lying on a beach watching the pretty native girls.”

  There was a twitter of embarrassment from the women, and Miss Sally blushed, ducking her head.

  “Time for seconds!” Anna’s father declared.

  Uncle Edgar added, “Nope, I do believe it’s time for presents!”

  Anna ran over to tug on his arm. “I was hoping you’d say that!”

  I was enthralled with this family from a hundred years ago. Getting on my knees, I leaned forward to make sure I didn’t miss a single thing.

  “Look, there’s Mister Lance with the cart now,” Uncle Edgar said, rubbing his hands together.

  The elderly gardener pulled a cart decorated with flowers and ribbons and bearing a huge stack of wrapped gifts across the lawn.

  Edgar rushed over to begin handing them out. “Something for everyone!”

  “This is the best part of all your trips,” Anna told him.

  He tugged at her hair again. “You’re so mercenary, my little cher.”

  Anna swished her dress, her ringlets flouncing. “No, I’m not! I just like presents, especially from exotic countries.”

  “Since we don’t get to travel with you, Edgar,” her mother added, “it’s like you bring a piece of it home with you.” She turned to the women and added, “My house is becoming very cosmopolitan with statues and trinkets from around the world. Every corner table and nook.”

  “I’d love to take a tour sometime,” one of the women said.

  “Our home is going to be on the Garden Club Christmas Tour this year.” I could tell by the excitement in Miz Julianna’s voice that she was thrilled.

  Her friend laid a hand on her arm. “You had better start your list-making now, my dear.”

  “It’s going to be quite a job, Charlotte,” Miz Julianna admitted. “But an honor.”

  Uncle Edgar grabbed three more packages. “It’s Christmas in June!” he bellowed.

  Miz Julianna sputtered with laughter. “Oh, Edgar, you are just too much and too good to us!”

  Edgar Normand truly did have a gift for everyone. Cuban cigars and brandy for Anna’s father, a beautiful hand-painted tea set for Miz Julianna, embroidered handkerchiefs and shawls for all the women, including Miss Sally and the servant Miz Beatrice. A ball-and-bat set for T-Paul.

  A black dress suit for Mister Lance with matching suspenders. “I can wear this to church — or the next funeral,” he said, and everyone laughed.

  Miss Anna ripped off the lid to a white box and reached in for a stunning pink dress with deep mauve ribbons. “Oh, my, Uncle Edgar even got me grown-up white gloves!” she exclaimed, holding the soft kid gloves to her cheek.

  “The dress is very pretty, Anna,” Miss Sally told her. “And the gloves fine, indeed. Your uncle has good taste.”

  “Well, the saleswoman does!” Uncle Edgar said, waggling his eyebrows.

  The sun began to lower, and Miz Beatrice and her daughter Dulcie started removing the plates and platters from the table and carrying them into the house.

  “Not so fast!” Uncle Edgar declared, holding up a hand to stop them from leaving. “I’ve saved the best for last.”

  “What, there’s more?” Anna demanded, closing up the crisp white lid to the dress box. “Show me!”

  Uncle Edgar raised his eyebrows and there was a twinkle in his eyes. “I decided there were too many empty stalls in your barn, Blaine, dear brother.”

  “What have you got up your sleeve?” Anna’s father said, putting his hands on his hips.

  Uncle Edgar ordered, “Mister Lance, go ahead and bring her out.”

  Anna bounced on her toes, her hands clasped together. “Bring out who — what?”

  The gardener disappeared around the side of the house for a moment, and then returned leading a chestnut-colored pony by the halter.

  Uncle Edgar squeezed his niece’s shoulder. “This little beauty is called Dixie, and she’s a two-year-old f
illy from one of the Caribbean diplomats who wanted to sell her to someone returning to the States. I’ll help your father break her and teach you to ride.”

  “Oh, Uncle Edgar,” Anna breathed. “Truly? For me? I’ve always wanted a pony of my very own. Father only uses his horses for farmwork, and I’ve always longed to ride all over the parish and feel the breeze in my hair — and pretend I’m Lady Godiva —”

  “Oh, Anna! Really!” her mother said, shaking her head at her daughter’s dramatics.

  Miss Sally hid a smile. “You’ve been reading too many novels, Anna dear, but I think I grasp your fancy picture.”

  Anna threw her arms around her uncle’s neck, and he picked her up off her feet, reminding me of something my daddy used to do. I brushed at my eyes, trying to remember the last time he’d done that. Picked me right up and held me so tight I thought I’d burst for air. I couldn’t remember.

  I’d already pinched myself several times, but the scene in front of me never melted away. I don’t know what Miss Anna was or what I was seeing. An apparition, a dream, or ghosts from the past? What was time doing on this island? Had I gone to the past or had they come forward to my future?

  “And before you hurry off, Miz Beatrice,” Edgar said in a louder voice before the servant rushed off again with an armload of table settings. “I have one more thing for your daughter, Dulcie. If you don’t mind a gift from a vagabond.”

  Miz Beatrice wiped the sweat from her face. “Oh, Mister Normand, sir, you are too kind. These beautiful shawls are more than Dulcie and me ever expected. A thousand thanks to you, truly.”

  Uncle Edgar waved her words away. “I don’t have more boxes of fancy dresses or any more ponies hidden away, but I did find something I think your little Dulcie will enjoy. I got to visit a special island where dolls are made and treasured. The locals really love their dolls and show them off on a place called the Island of the Dolls. It’s becoming quite a tourist spot. The craftsmanship is remarkable, and the dolls are shipping to Europe and Canada. I brought one back with me in this last box for Dulcie, if she’d like it.”

  Miz Beatrice pushed at her daughter’s shoulder. “What do you say, Dulcie?”

  “Oh, thank you kindly, Mister Normand,” the girl said, her face lighting up like a parade. “Thank you ever so much!”

  “You haven’t seen it yet!” he told her with a chuckle. “Maybe you’ll hate it and say it’s silly and too babyish for a young lady like yourself.”

  From under the wagon’s blanket, Edgar Normand withdrew a final white box tied in a cluster of purple ribbons and handed it to Dulcie.

  While the girl untied the ribbons, my eyes darted toward Miss Anna, who was petting her pony and trying to pretend she didn’t have her eyes fixed on the servant girl opening the very last present, even though she was surrounded by boxes full of lovely things of her own.

  When the lid dropped away, Dulcie gasped. She gazed at Uncle Edgar in adoration as she lifted a porcelain doll from the box. Shiny blond ringlets ran down the doll’s back and framed her lovely face. She was dressed in an elegant mauve dress with layers of lace, even on her pantaloons. Black high-heeled shoes decorated her feet. A hat of silk and ribbons sat jauntily over one eye. A parasol perched in her delicately formed porcelain hands. The doll was simply stunning, and simply perfect.

  I had to cover up my mouth so the group on the lawn wouldn’t hear me gasping in shock behind the shrubbery. The doll in Dulcie’s arms was the very same doll sitting in the case back at the antique store. That was my mamma’s doll. The doll she wouldn’t let me touch because it was over a hundred years old. The doll that had once belonged to her dead sister, Gwen.

  I sank back on my heels, holding in a terrible longing to examine the doll up close. Did she have those same blue eyes? If Uncle Edgar gave this doll to Dulcie more than a hundred years ago, how in the world did Mamma’s sister, Gwen, own her?

  Crazy thoughts jumped inside my head like a frog on a skillet. “Remember the family Bible!” I whispered to myself. “Miz Julianna and Anna are linked down through the century straight to my own grandmother and mother.”

  That’s why the girl on the phone told me to find the book. She wanted me to come here. She wanted me to find this place and this family — my family.

  I blew a breath up at my flyaway bangs. My hair wasn’t thick and rich like Miss Anna’s hair. No silky waterfall locks passed through the generations to me, but I truly was related to Miss Anna.

  I tried to get ahold of myself as I rocked back on my heels, plopping onto the ground in my old-fashioned dress. My mind whirled. This plantation mansion with its columned porches and miles of sugarcane fields — my family used to be rich. One of the families in St. Martinville Parish.

  Goose bumps broke out on my arms. The sweat on my skin turned cold.

  “Come lead your new pony to the barn,” Uncle Edgar said, holding out the halter to Anna.

  As I peeked through the shrubbery, a funny look passed over Miss Anna’s face. She held a hand to her head and wilted into the nearest wicker chair, darting a glance at Dulcie, the servant girl. “I’m afraid I’m suddenly feeling so very tired.”

  “Oh, dear,” Miz Julianna said, pressing a hand to her daughter’s forehead. “You are a bit hot and damp.”

  “She’s been in the sun all day,” Miss Sally spoke up. “Poor dear, it’s probably all the excitement. It’s not every day a girl gets her very own pony.”

  “Perhaps I need to rest so I can ride him tomorrow,” Anna told her uncle.

  “Indeed,” Uncle Edgar said with a nod. “I shall be here the next few weeks and we’ll have a lesson every morning.”

  “Teach her to take care of it properly, too,” her father added with an amused expression that made him look just like his brother, Edgar. “You do know, Anna, that you’ll need to muck out the stable, brush him down, and feed him twice a day —”

  “Oh, Blaine,” Miz Julianna said, rolling her eyes. “You do go on.”

  “I just want her to learn responsibility,” Mr. Normand said, but his mouth quirked up and everyone knew he was teasing.

  “I’ll help her,” Dulcie piped up. “I’ve taken care of horses before.”

  “Is that right?” Mr. Normand said. “You are a talented young lady.”

  Miz Beatrice pinched her daughter’s arm and hissed, “Mind your manners, my girl. Don’t speak unless spoken to.”

  “She’s all right,” Miz Julianna assured Beatrice. “I’m sure she could be a big help to our Anna.”

  Miz Beatrice gave another small push at Dulcie. “Show Miss Anna your new doll and keep her entertained for a moment. I’m almost finished up here, ma’am,” she said to Miz Julianna. “Then I’ll start the washing up inside.”

  “Thank you, Beatrice. T-Paul, be sure there’s plenty of hot water in the kitchen.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He snapped to attention, and then ran toward the metal basins sitting by the water pump at the corner of the house.

  Something funny was going on. I felt it in my gut as Dulcie reluctantly handed over the gorgeous porcelain doll, and Anna seized it in her arms. She ran a finger over the doll’s silk clothing, the satin ribbons streaming from the hat, the soft feathers, and the dainty rosebud mouth. “What will you call her?” she asked Dulcie, who stood by helplessly watching.

  Dulcie swallowed. “Think I’ll give her my favorite girl name. Anna Marie.”

  “Why, that’s my name,” Anna said. “How wonderful of you.”

  Miss Sally’s face beamed from her chair. “It’s lovely to see such friends.”

  “I’ll share my pony if you share this doll,” Anna said, fluttering her eyelashes at Dulcie. “After all, if she’s going to be my namesake, I have a right to hold her, don’t I?”

  Dulcie licked her dry lips. “Of course, Miss Anna.”

  Uncle Edgar rubbed his hands together. “Well, that’s all settled, and I hope everyone enjoys a piece of the Caribbean. Next time there’ll be elephant tusks fr
om Africa, for I’m determined to snag some ivory and make a new set of piano keys for my sister-in-law.”

  “You’re such a braggart, Edgar,” Miz Julianna told him affectionately. “But such a thoughtful braggart thinking of me.”

  “Africa, how utterly wild!” Miss Sally’s eyes lit up. “A real safari with motorcars and guns and everything?”

  Uncle Edgar tipped the brim of his hat. “You’ll be the first to see the photographs upon my return, Miss Sally. Now, Blaine, let me practice my batting swing again before it’s completely dark.”

  I think I was the only one aware that Miss Sally’s face was crestfallen as Uncle Edgar strode across the lawns to the batting area. I was pretty sure the young woman was hinting that she would like to go with Uncle Edgar on his African safari. Which meant she was hoping for a more permanent relationship. But Edgar Normand didn’t seem to get the hint. It gave me a delicious feeling knowing Miss Sally had a secret crush on Uncle Edgar.

  The hanging lanterns glowed brighter as the sun sank behind the cypress, disappearing altogether. The island grew darker, more shadowy.

  I stretched out my stiff legs, cramped from sitting tucked between the tree and the bushes. My parents were going to be frantic I’d been gone so long. Maybe they’d even ground me. Last time I was here, it wasn’t near this dark. I’d stayed way too late.

  “Oh, look, Mamma,” Anna said, the doll sitting snug in her arms. “The lightning bugs! They’ve come out.”

  “Today was especially humid,” her mother said, not paying much attention as she directed T-Paul to take down the tables while Dulcie folded the linens. “That’s when the fireflies usually come out to play.”

  I crawled forward a little more. Dulcie stared unhappily at her gift from Uncle Edgar still sitting tight in Anna’s arms while she had to go off and clean up. The servant’s daughter would probably never own anything so lovely ever again in her life. I felt sorry for her.

  “The lightning bugs are dancing in the trees over there!” Anna cried out. “I’m going to catch one. Bring me a jar, T-Paul!”