Wild Swans

by Patricia Snodgrass

  The house was built low to the ground, much like its former inhabitants, who were of French and English descent. It once had a small flight of steps, but later a wraparound veranda was installed. It was wide and spacious, filled with chairs and tables where the current inhabitants spent much of their time gossiping about neighbors and the half humorous quandary that was Louisiana politics.

  Someone once stated that Louisiana was half underwater and half under indictment. And in the summer of 1958 the only thing buzzing was the mosquitoes and Governor Long’s rumored dalliance with Blaze Starr, which was whispered about all the way down into the backwaters and bayous.

  Althea pointed out at breakfast the next day that wealth and power were no indicators of morality and uprightness. Ruby, however, ignored her, telling her to mind her manners and pass the grits.

  The house itself was constructed of heavy timbers and wrapped in shiplap. A single flying gable protruded from what had once been an attic. The balcony jutted like a bulldog with an extended under bite just beyond the gable.

  The house had been divided into four apartments; two upstairs and two on the first floor. Mrs. Ramsay, an elderly school teacher originally from Alexandria, had moved into the lower right hand apartment three years ago. Cally lived in the apartment above her. Ruby and Althea lived in the upper left. The apartment across from Mrs. Ramsay was currently unoccupied.

  Ruby was forewarned about a new tenant arriving this morning. A man. Mrs. Bristow assured her that this gentleman was quite elderly and wouldn’t be a bother. Ruby was impressed only of the prospect of getting another commission, but was not thrilled with the idea of having a rooster in the henhouse.

  If Cally moved in with me after Althea moves to Vivian, then her apartment would be vacant and we could rent it out to someone else for the full going price instead of the pittance that Cally pays, Ruby reasoned. Mrs. Bristow will have another occupant and I would have another month’s commission as matron. She smiled thinly over the rim of her cup. Yes, she thought. That’d do fine.

  “How about moving in with me?” Ruby asked as Cally joined her in the kitchen. “You know Althea’s bedroom will be empty in a few weeks and there’s really no need for us to have two apartments.”

  “You’re not thinking about me,” Cally teased as she poured herself a cup of coffee. You’re thinking about making another commission.”

  “The extra money wouldn’t hurt, especially now that I have to finish paying off Althea’s wedding.”

  “You’re going through a great deal of fuss for nothing,” Cally said. “Althea doesn’t even know that boy from Vivian. And Jake is a good kid. You once said so yourself.”

  “That’s before his balls dropped and he started taking too much interest in my Althea.”

  “You’re wrong to do this to her, Sister.”

  Ruby shot her a vicious glance. “It was your idea.”

  “I said it in jest. I had no idea you’d take me seriously.” She paused, “Besides, I thought you were hell bent on sending her to that convent in Slidell. What made you change your mind?”

  Ruby did not reply. Instead, she grabbed a washrag and scrubbed furiously at a stain on the countertop. Fussing cleaning Cally called it. Ruby hated it when Cally was right.

  “How did you meet this family?” Cally asked, changing the subject. “It’s not like we run in the same social circles.”

  Ruby’s face, usually lined and tense, relaxed. She gave up on the stain and sat down at the table. She poured herself a cup of coffee and stared into it as if trying to divine the future.

  “Bette Poteet hosted the Olympian Ball this past January. I told her son Jessie, you know the one with the big Buick and the bad comb over? That one.” She paused for an instant and then continued. “I told him that I was interested in attending, and he said he’d be willing to escort me, for a price of course.”

  “Oh my God,” Cally gasped. “That’s scandalous. Did he really do that?”

  “Of course he did. What do you expect from men like him?” Ruby snapped. “So I promised him I would but after the dance, and he agreed. I spent two weeks pay on a ball gown, and I passed myself off as one of the Thibodaux from Slidell to those uppity northern Louisiana friends of theirs. Oh, I’m sure gossip was flung far and wide, but it doesn’t matter. I found my pigeon. He’s a handsome young man. His folks are oil people in Vivian. After a season of scheming and begging, they agreed to marry my Althie to their son.”

  “And what about Jessie?”

  “What do you think happened with Jessie,” Ruby snapped. “I left him stranded at the punch bowl. The nerve of that creature, thinking I would... Oh he’s still prattling around, wheezing and whining that I cheated him, even threatening to take what was offered, but he won’t. He’s a coward. And he won’t dare tell anyone about the bargain we made. Not if he wants his momma to find out what kind of weasel her son is. And believe me;” she said pausing at length, “his momma’s will is more important than my reputation.”

  “You’re playing with fire again, Ruby. Look at the disaster that happened before. Do you honestly want that to happen again?”

  Ruby shrugged and sipped her coffee. “That was a long time ago. I’ve wised up since then. Besides, it doesn’t matter does it? Althea has her Prince Charming waiting for her. In a few weeks time I can relax and stop worrying.”

  “No, now you have finances to worry about,” Cally replied. “You’ve put up a huge loan at the bank. How are we going to be able to pay it off?

  “That’s one of the reasons why I want you to come live with me. Mrs. Bristow has been very generous about letting you stay here with just the piddling amount you make at the store, but still.”

  “And what if I said no? What if I said I want to get married myself?”

  “You wouldn’t leave me, not after all these years.”

  “I’m still young, Ruby. And I don’t want to be an old maid my whole life. Maybe I want a life of my own. Maybe a rich man of my own, have you ever thought about that?”

  Ruby laughed out loud. “Fat chance.”

  “Stranger things have happened,” Cally said evenly.

  “Yes, to us, and those strange things are rarely ever good.”

  Chapter Two

  “Well if that don’t beat all,” Cally said. She leaned against the deli counter and looked out the opened door. Ruby closed the cash register and followed her older sister’s gaze out to the dusty front drive where a black sedan of indeterminate make had arrived. A gentleman of equally indeterminate make and age stepped out. Cally looked at her sister who was scowling as she watched him extract a faded yellow carpet bag and a brown paper sack from the trunk.

  “Raggedy little man ain’t he?” Ruby commented.

  “Oh I don’t know. He don’t look all that bad,” Cally replied. She observed him as he walked up to the store. “I think he’s kinda cute.”

  Ruby shot her sister a glance. “How old are you?”

  Cally grinned as she watched the man approach. “Old enough to know better and young enough to do it anyway.”

  Ruby blushed. “Don’t you start.” She patted her foot impatiently as the man walked toward the store. “That’s all we need, a rooster in the henhouse. And you know he’ll start crowing as soon as he steps foot in the door.”

  Callie leered. “I think that’s exactly what we need.”

  “How old do you suspect he is?”

  Cally shrugged. “Too old to be interested in your Althea, darling, so quit worrying.”

  “I’m not worried.” Ruby’s frown deepened. “There’s something rather odd about him don’t you think? And he’s carrying a brown paper bag. You know what he’s got in it. Whiskey. I’ll bet you a week’s wages that he comes in here reeking of Old Crow.”

  “You think the same thing about every man who comes down here. I swear, if Cary Grant were to rent that apartment, you’d throw a fit about it.”

  “Well it’s pretty obvious our boy coming up the driveway a
in’t Cary Grant. And Cary wouldn’t be toting his belongings in no carpet bag and grocery sack either. I guarantee that.”

  “Well,” Cally said, ignoring her sister’s comment, “I’m hoping he’s not too old for me. I could do with a nice summer fling.”

  “Don’t you have anything else on your mind besides men?”

  “Nothing that counts. So, what are you going to do once you have Althie married off?”

  “I haven’t given it much thought.”

  “You could join the convent after you finish paying off Althea’s trousseau.”

  “Fat chance.”

  “That fella doesn’t look too bad from a distance.” Cally returned to the subject as she put her elbows on the counter. She sighed, her expression wistful. “Nope, not too bad at all.”

  Ruby shot her a look. “He ain’t nothing special.” She shivered despite the heat. “He’s a bit peculiar if you ask me.”

  “Hush. Now who’s being scandalous?” Cally asked.

  Ruby ignored her sister and stared past the man to gaze at the car still idling in the driveway. The vehicle was nondescript, black with silver chrome on all the proper places, but it seemed odd, sort of out of place, like catching the glimmer of a gold fish swimming amongst catfish. She strained to look through the windshield but something dark was obscuring her view. She shook off a weird notion that there was no driver in the car.

  “Cally, do you notice anything weird about that car?”

  Cally shrugged. “I suppose that it’s a newer model. We don’t get to see all the newer cars unless it’s some rich man driving from Lafayette to Shreveport and happens to cross Barlow or Bayou Beauf on the way.”

  “I suppose so.”

  Cally and Ruby fell silent as they watched the man pass the gas pumps. Small dirt devils swirled around his feet. He wasn’t very tall, and had the beginning of a paunch along with a tinge of gray at his temples. Ruby couldn’t quite see his face because it was partially shaded by a hat. And although he was on the steps now, neither woman was exactly sure as to what he looked like.

  “Good morning, ladies,” he said as he stepped up to the store counter, then, as an afterthought removed his hat.

  He has a very distinctive New England accent, Ruby noted. Maybe he’s from Pennsylvania, or Maryland. She looked at her sister who was staring hard at him.

  “I am renting an apartment at the plantation house,” he said. “I was told I could get the key here.”

  “Yes,” Ruby said, jolting as if awakened from a deep sleep. She turned quickly, feeling flustered. “I have it right here.” She extracted the key from the bottom of the cash register and handed it to him. “Mrs. Bristow has very distinct rules for residing here,” Ruby said, coming to her senses. “I don’t mean to sound uppity but she is very insistent that people who rent her apartments uphold a certain moral standard. Not necessarily church going morality, mind you. I’m talking about the kind of decency everyone should have but rarely does these days.”

  “I understand.”

  “Mrs. Bristow is adamantly apposed to drinking alcohol in these apartments,” Ruby said, her eyes going to the brown paper sack in the gentleman’s hand.

  “I’m a teetotaler.” He smiled as he set the sack on the counter. “My biggest habit is paperbacks. Earl Stanley Gardner is my current drug of choice.”

  “See?” Cally said nudging Ruby in the ribs. Ruby shook her sister off.

  “I’m sure as a gentleman you do prefer having a cigar after dinner but because of insurance concerns you can’t do it inside the house. But you can light up on the veranda if you like. No pets of course. No parties here either, and no visitors, especially after dark.”

  “Sensible. Very sensible.”

  “You can go to the VFW hall or the Elk’s lodge and raise a ruckus there if you have to. And no men are allowed on the premises, with the exception of the priest or minister of your church. It’s for our ladies’ safety, you understand.”

  “I completely agree and wholeheartedly understand,” the man replied. “And I cherish my privacy, so there’ll be no visitors.”

  Ruby cast him a doubtful look.

  “Really?” Cally asked. “No one to come and call? No one at all?”

  “Yes. As I indicated, I’m not the kind to...raise a ruckus...”

  “Are you from up north?” Ruby asked.

  “Baltimore.”

  “Why that’s way up north, ain’t it?” Cally asked, leaning over the counter, giving the man an ample look at her cleavage. Ruby jabbed her hard in the ribs.

  “Why would anyone want to live in a place like that, and all the way up north too?” Ruby asked.

  “I didn’t, which is why I’m here.”

  “I don’t blame you,” Cally replied. “Cities are such loud and vulgar things, don’t you agree Sister?”

  Ruby scowled.

  “Cities have their own charm and beauty as well,” the gentleman replied. “But there comes a time in a man’s life when he yearns for the pleasure of his own company. I hope you understand that.”

  “I do,” Ruby replied. “I won’t be calling any time soon.”

  The gentleman replaced his hat. “I’m sure we’ll all get along nicely.”

  “May I ask what your occupation is, Mr...”

  “Lindt. And I’m in construction.”

  “Oh, are you going to be working on that new shopping center in Barlow?” Cally asked.

  “No. I’m more of an infrastructure man myself.” He shrugged. “I’m between jobs right now. In fact,” he said as he gazed wistfully out toward the bayou, “I’m thinking about retiring.”

  “I see.” Cally leaned further against the counter. Ruby’s scowl deepened. “And is there a Mrs. Lindt?”

  “Cally,” Ruby cautioned.

  Cally shrugged. “Just a question.”

  “No,” Mr. Lindt said, taking the key off the counter and slipping it into his jacket pocket. “I think I’d like to settle in. It’s been a long trip.”

  “I’ll show you to the apartment,” Cally said as she moved to step around the counter. Ruby blocked her with her arm.

  “I’ll show you,” Ruby said. “So you won’t disturb Mrs. Ramsay in case you try her door by accident.” She ignored the smart expression on her sister’s face as she stepped around the counter and motioned for Mr. Lindt to follow. “She’s an old blind lady and she upsets easily,” she explained, casting a sharp look over her shoulder. Cally folded her arms across her chest, her face scarlet.

  “She’d have a heart attack if you rattled her door by mistake.”

  “Not like I‘d let that happen,” Cally snapped.

  Ignoring her sister, Ruby motioned for Mr. Lindt to follow. “If you’ll come with me sir,” she said, “I’ll show you where you’ll be staying.”

  Cally stuck her tongue out at her sister’s back and resumed cutting thick slices of cheese from a large square stick.

  ****

  There were few or no roads in the South prior to the Civil War, and Althea’s little corner of Louisiana was no exception. A century ago, flat bottomed barges floated bales of cotton up the bayou and beyond, and had done so up until the Depression, when railways took the place of barges in secret out of the way places where few people still had no electricity or running water.

  Now the bayou was used primarily by sportsmen from Lafayette and Lake Charles. The locals, however, still traveled up the old waterway to visit neighbors, fish and hunt. But those who made most use of it were bored, frustrated teenagers out to have a secret rendezvous. Which was what Althea intended.

  Althea’s heart pounded as she stepped off the dock and onto the raft. She looped the rope off of the stump and, standing on the gray weathered boards, she took up the long pole she used to coax the raft upriver, and pushed away from the dock.

  She kept close to the bank, which was overgrown with trees, tangles of vines and high grasses, so she wouldn’t be seen by local passersby. It wouldn’t do to get caught out
here, not now. Even though her mother and aunt were busy in the store, Althea knew that the old lady had her spies, especially in Mrs. Rubens, who lived a half a mile from around the bend. Althea navigated the raft around the slow curve of the riverbank, keeping to the overgrowth of honeysuckle, blackberry vines and cypress.

  Soon Althea was away from the plantation, away from nosy old Mrs. Rubens and her spying hussy of a housekeeper. Her strong brown arms poled the raft further from the bank, her face red with exertion. There was a tinge of sunburn on her nose; her heart pounded like the wings of a small bird caught in a cage. It was a dangerous undertaking, she knew, but well worth the risk.

  If I get pregnant, she reasoned, Hank won’t want me. He’d never marry a whore. And Jake will have to. He’d just have to. It’s the honorable thing, and Jake’s an honorable boy. And best of all, there ain’t nothing Mom can do about it.

  That way we’d be together forever and mom can piss and moan all she wants. It won’t do any good.

  Unless, Althea’s inner devil’s advocate warned her, Mom pitches a fit about it to the police. She could say Jake forced himself on me. Then she could be free to shove me into a convent until the baby was born and then it’d be taken away. She scowled. And Hank would still be there, or some other boy...or maybe the next one won’t be a boy but a nasty old man like old fish face.

  She heard Jake’s soft call, and she answered. She poled up to the bank, the tip of the raft bouncing gently off an old tree stump. Jake appeared, his tousled hair drifting in the breeze as he parted the rushes.

  “Were you seen?” he asked.

  “No,” Althea replied as she helped him onto the raft. “And we’ve got more time than I thought. Mom’s got a new tenant to settle. I saw him pull up in a big spooky looking car just as I was leaving.”