Swan Place

by Augusta Trobaugh

  Somebody may read my stories! Maybe laugh at my mama’s liking to go honky-tonk dancing with Roy-Ellis! Oh, there had never been such a hurt in my heart before. More even than when my mama died. I stayed awake for a long time, lying in that pretty bed in such a pretty room in a big, beautiful house and yet feeling as if something in me had died and would never be the same again in all eternity. Finally, I got up and went through the bathroom and into the room where Molly and Little Ellis were asleep in the same bed, and I slipped in beside them. They were warm and sweet, like sleeping puppies. Just breathing their perfume made me feel a little bit better. So finally, I fell asleep, but only after I figured out that keeping Molly with us and keeping our little family together was a lot more important than any story I could ever write.

  Chapter Thirteen

  I woke up the next morning hearing Crystal calling to me from our room.

  “Dove? Dove? Where are you?” I pushed back the covers, eased myself out of bed so as not to bother Molly and Little Ellis and went through the bathroom toward Crystal’s voice.

  “Here I am,” I said to Crystal. She was sitting up in her bed, rubbing her eyes and looking tired and confused.

  “Oh—okay,” she sort of moaned. “I’ve got to get ready for work, and I’m still so tired! I just don’t know why I’m so tired!”

  “You don’t?” Once again, I knew that I sounded just like Aunt Bett. “We threw all our things into the car, we drove for over an hour, unloaded everything, and got just a few hours of sleep. And you don’t know why you’re tired?”

  Crystal managed a smile. “Yes, I guess it was a lot,” she admitted.

  “Tonight you’ll get to bed earlier,” I encouraged. “And tomorrow you’ll feel lots better.”

  “Okay. Thanks, Dove.”

  “It certainly was a lot, Crystal,” I offered. “And it still is.”

  “Yeah, but I can do it.” She sounded like she was trying to convince herself even more than me. So while Crystal washed her face, I made up the beds. But then I heard Crystal close the bathroom door and through it, I heard her being sick to her stomach. It was a terrible sound, and I really didn’t know what to do—let her alone or go get Buzzard or what. But right at that very moment, Buzzard appeared at our door.

  “You all okay?” she asked, with her big body filling up almost the whole doorway.

  “I think so,” I said, still not sure of what to do. Then, more terrible sounds from the bathroom.

  “Crystal sick?” Buzzard demanded, and without waiting for an answer, she stomped over to the bathroom door and banged on it with her fist. “You okay in there?” she hollered.

  “Yes,” came Crystal’s squeaky reply. Then, “Yes,” with a stronger sound.

  Buzzard stood there for a few minutes, frowning and staring at the door.

  “Well, you get dressed and come on downstairs. I’ll fix you some weak tea. Do you just fine.” It was a final-sounding command, and Buzzard had already gone back downstairs when I heard Crystal moan, “Oh, Lord have mercy!” But I didn’t know what she meant by that. I heard the toilet flush and then water running in the sink. And Crystal came out, pressing a blue washcloth to her paper-white face.

  “Dove!” I heard Molly call, and I rushed into the other room to get them both into the bathroom, my face burning as I wondered if Little Ellis had wet the bed and how on earth would I be able to tell Buzzard about that! But—thank goodness!—they were both still dry, but in a big hurry to get into the bathroom. Afterward, I took them back to their bed.

  “Sit right there,” I commanded, and they did, of course.

  “You okay, Crystal?” I called.

  “I’ll make it, Dove,” she called back. “Just don’t know what on earth made me so sick.” Then she added, “Listen, you do all you can to make things easy for Buzzard today, and I’m leaving some money here on the table, in case you all go to a grocery store. I don’t mean for Buzzard to bear the burden of feeding us. You hear?”

  “Yeah, Crystal. I hear.” I got Molly and Little Ellis dressed. Their clothes were clean, of course, but pretty wrinkled. Still, it was the best I could do, for now. So we went down that curving staircase—right into a new morning and to Buzzard.

  When we got to the kitchen, Crystal was ready to leave for work, but she still looked pretty pale. Buzzard held out a paper bag to Crystal. “This is some lunch I fixed you. But I didn’t know you were feeling poorly, so maybe you won’t want to eat that apple today. Save it for tomorrow.” At the mention of food, Crystal looked a little paler, but she took the bag anyway.

  “Thanks, Buzzard.” Crystal glanced over at me and Molly and Little Ellis. “Now Dove here knows how to do almost anything needs doing, so you put her to work. And she’ll keep Molly and Little Ellis out from under your feet.”

  “Won’t be any trouble, Crystal,” Buzzard assured her. “Matter of fact, I’m kind of glad to have me a little company, to tell you the truth. Gets awful lonely out here in the middle of nowhere. Well, you go on now and get yourself to work.” Crystal hesitated for a moment, still looking at me, and I could hear the words she didn’t say: Don’t let the children cause any trouble. Don’t do anything to make Buzzard change her mind about letting us stay a little while.

  I nodded.

  After we watched Crystal drive away, Buzzard herded Molly and Little Ellis toward the table.

  “I didn’t know what you all like for breakfast, so I made some biscuits and sausage. That sound okay?”

  “It sounds wonderful,” I said. So we all had breakfast together, with me and Molly and Little Ellis eating those wonderful, light biscuits with country sausage in them and drinking milk. Buzzard sat watching us and sipping from a thick, white mug of coffee.

  “Well, you all sure do have good appetites,” she observed.

  “Oh—I meant to tell you,” I said. “Crystal left me some money so I can help out with the groceries. We don’t mean for you to have to feed us.”

  “Now where on earth did that come from?” Buzzard asked, frowning at me. I felt my face go all hot. Why, Crystal had been gone only a few minutes, and already maybe I’d said something to make Buzzard not want us anymore!

  “I just meant that we don’t want to make things hard on you,” I sputtered.

  “Oh, honey,” Buzzard almost crooned. “I know what you mean. But it’s more you all’s own pride than not wanting things to be hard on me.” With that pronouncement, she got up from the table, leaving me thinking about what she said. And maybe she was right. We certainly were a prideful bunch, dirt-poor though we were. I thought of Aunt Bett and all her pickles she traded for clothes. Yes, that was pride.

  “Well, would you all like a tour of the house and the garden?” Buzzard asked. “Just leave the dishes for now. We’ll take care of them later.”

  “Can I ask you a question?” I ventured.

  “Well, sure you can,” Buzzard said.

  “The lady who owns this house. Where has she gone off to?”

  “Well,” Buzzard sat back down at the table. “Miz Swan goes to France a lot. She grew up there, and she has another house just outside of Paris.”

  “Paris . . .” I murmured, because I really couldn’t imagine such a place.

  “See,” Buzzard went on, and I could see that she was warming up to tell us a good story. That way, she was a lot like Aunt Mee. “Mr. Swan came from a real wealthy family, and they’re the ones who built this house in the first place. But when he was in France during the war, he met a beautiful French girl. Couldn’t bear to leave her behind when he was sent back to the United States, so he married her and brought her home with him.”

  “That’s lovely,” I said.

  “Oh yes,” Buzzard agreed, nodding her head and looking into her cup. “He’s been dead many years now, but she still keeps this house, where she came as a bride. Except now that he’s gone, she likes to stay in France most of the time.”

  “Don’t you get lonely when she’s gone?” I asked.

/>   “A little bit,” she admitted, and then she laughed out loud. “Let me tell you about the funniest thing Miz Swan ever did.” She paused and looked around at us, to make sure we were paying attention. When she seemed satisfied that she had a firm hold on center stage, she went on: “When I first come here to work for the Swans—he was still alive back then—Miz Swan said she liked me right well and wanted to hire me. But she didn’t like my name. Said it was purely sinful for a Mama to give her girl a name like Buzzard! So she said that if I wanted to work for her, I’d have to call myself Boo-zar. ‘Cause she says to me that French people don’t say the last sound of words, so we’d just let the ‘d’ get lost and I’d be Boo-zar. And by golly, that’s what she called me from that moment on. Just that easy. And once I got used to it, I guess I liked it better than plain old Buzzard, sure enough!” She looked at us expectantly, waiting for us to let her know we liked her story.

  “Which do you like?” I asked. “Because whichever one you like, that’s the one we’ll use.”

  “Well, with Miz Swan gone . . . to France, I mean . . . I guess the name my mama gave me is just fine. I’m not fancy-sounding Boo-zar at all. Just plain old Buzzard!” She laughed loudly, and then she surprised me by reaching across the table and patting my hand while Molly and Little Ellis studied us.

  “These two little ones always so quiet?” she asked, drawing her brows together.

  “Mostly,” I said. “I guess they’re kind of solemn, but that’s the way they are,” I explained.

  “Solemn, yes,” Buzzard said. “But they been through a lot. What all do they like to do?”

  “They love watching cartoons,” I said. “And having me read to them.” I stumbled to a stop, with nothing else to add. “I guess that’s about all.”

  “Well, they’re certainly the quietest children I ever saw.” Buzzard studied Molly and Little Ellis for another long moment before she suddenly slapped her hand on the table, making all of us jump. “Well, come on! Let’s show them the garden! If there’s anything that can make little feet want to run and play and help us get some color into those cheeks, it’s the garden.” Buzzard led us across the back porch and out into the yard. A big expanse of grass, and farther down the yard, a long line of trees. A real little forest that reminded me of the backyard grove we had shared with Aunt Mee. On the other side, lots of azalea bushes and dogwood trees, and at the last, we could see a small pond.

  “Used to be there were big white swans in that little duck pool down yonder.” Molly and Little Ellis, who, typically, had said nothing at all, grabbed each others’ hands and started running toward the pond.

  “Wait!” I yelled. “You’ll fall in!” I started after them, but Buzzard held me back.

  “Shucks, honey,” Buzzard laughed. “It isn’t deep enough to hurt anybody. Why, Little Ellis could stand up in it and it wouldn’t come to more than around his middle. Let those little ones do a bit of running around. Be good for them.” So Buzzard and I followed at a nice, slow pace, and when we got to the pond, Little Ellis was throwing pebbles into it and Molly had found a little branch and was drawing it across the water. I got to thinking about how that pond must have looked when Mr. Swan was still alive, with beautiful Mrs. Swan by his side and lovely real swans gliding back and forth.

  “I’ll bet it was just lovely, with the swans,” I said, not even realizing I was going to say anything until I heard my own voice.

  “Oh, yes,” Buzzard agreed. Then she added, “Did you see the white swan on the mailbox when you all came last night?”

  “I sure did. That’s how we knew we were in the right place.”

  “Well, I’m glad you found the Swan Place so easily.”

  “Swan Place?” I asked.

  “That’s the name of this house and garden,” Buzzard said.

  Why, I’d never heard of such a thing in my whole life! A house and garden with its very own name!

  “Swan Place,” I murmured.

  “Swan Place,” Buzzard echoed.

  When we went back into the house, Buzzard showed us around. Right inside the back door, there was a small room with a big, comfortable reclining rocking chair. Molly and Little Ellis spotted the television and looked up at me.

  “Yes, they can watch cartoons in here,” Buzzard said, turning on the set and settling Molly and Little Ellis onto the big chair.

  “Across the hall there is my room,” she said. “You all don’t go in there.”

  “Yes’m,” I said. Then she showed me the dining room, with a huge, shiny mahogany table and a crystal cabinet just loaded to the hilt with every kind of beautiful plates and glasses you could imagine. “You all don’t play in here,” she intoned.

  “Yes’m.”

  “Then here’s the parlor. “You all don’t play in here either.”

  “Yes’m.”

  “Well, that’s about it—you already know where the kitchen is—except for upstairs. There’s your rooms and two other bedrooms. You don’t play in either of those. One of them is Miz Swan’s very own room and you don’t mess around in it.”

  “Yes’m.”

  “Let’s us get those dishes done now, and then we’ll make out a shopping list and go into town for some groceries. I didn’t know what you all like, so I figured I’d just wait until you got here and you could tell me.”

  So we washed up the breakfast things, but when we came to Crystal’s cup she’d had for her tea, Buzzard put it aside. “I think we’ll want to make sure that one gets washed separately,” she said. “Just in case whatever made Crystal sick is contagious.” Afterward, we sat down at the table and Buzzard gave me a pencil and a piece of paper. “Let’s make out a list,” she said. “What do you all like to eat?”

  “Well, Molly and Little Ellis like SpaghettiOs and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. And we all like tuna sandwiches.” Then I suddenly remembered Aunt Bett’s good pork chop and rice recipe. “And I know how to make a real good pork chop casserole.”

  “Write that all down,” Buzzard said. “And put down milk and eggs and bread too. What do you all like for breakfast?”

  “Mostly cereal,” I said. “But those biscuits you made us this morning were the best I ever tasted.”

  Buzzard beamed at the compliment. “I do make good biscuits, don’t I?”

  “You sure do.”

  Then she turned serious on me. “Now when we go to town, to the grocery store, if anybody talks to us, you leave it all to me. And no matter what I say, don’t you contradict me.”

  “Yes’m.”

  “And let’s get you and the little ones dressed up a little bit, for going into town.”

  I wanted to ask her why, but I didn’t.

  Within a few minutes, I had Molly and Little Ellis and me dressed in some of Aunt Bett’s best Sunday clothes, and when we came downstairs, I saw that Buzzard had changed from her faded house dress and into a stiffly starched black dress with a spotless, snow-white collar and cuffs. Buzzard studied us, looking over our somewhat wrinkled clothes—wrinkled because of how fast we’d had to throw everything into the trunk when we left home—just as I was looking over her crisp, black dress.

  “We need to iron your clothes a little bit before we go into town,” Buzzard announced. So Molly and Little Ellis sat at the kitchen table wearing only their underwear and shoes while Buzzard ironed their clothes on a pull-down ironing board that came right out of the kitchen wall. When she was done, and Molly and Little-Ellis’s clothes were well-pressed, Buzzard turned to me.

  “Give me that blouse for a little minute, and I’ll freshen it up for you.”

  Why, I was so surprised, I couldn’t even speak, and my arms took on a mind of their own and flung themselves across my chest. I felt my ears going all hot, and I must have had a terrible look on my face, because Buzzard’s mouth fell open.

  “Oh!” she sputtered. “I’m sorry if I embarrassed you.” I couldn’t even speak, and that was probably just as well, because what was ready to fly off my to
ngue was a loud, ugly way of saying that I wasn’t a child, for Heaven’s sake! At least not a child like Molly or Little Ellis, who didn’t mind one little bit to sit around without their shirts.

  “Tell you what,” Buzzard almost whispered. “You go into the pantry and hand me out your blouse through a crack in the door.” That sounded fine to me, and I was glad she’d realized I wasn’t a child.

  So I went into the pantry, took off my blouse, and passed it to Buzzard through the mostly closed door. Then I stood in that dim, strangely sweet-smelling little pantry, reading the labels on the cans. I still had my arms crossed over each other on my bare chest, and I uncrossed them and looked down at myself. Flat as a pancake. Why, I didn’t look a bit different from Molly or Little Ellis, so maybe Buzzard just didn’t realize how much older than them I really was.

  “Here’s your blouse,” Buzzard muffled voice brought my arms right back up over my flat chest as she passed the freshly ironed blouse back to me. The blouse was smooth and still warm from the iron. When I came out of the pantry Buzzard looked us all over once again and pronounced, “Well, now that we’re all presentable, let’s go.”

  We followed Buzzard down a little path that ended at a small stone building I hadn’t noticed before. When we walked around the side of it, I saw that it was really a low kind of garage—three sides and a roof, but no windows, and the floor was just gravel, right on the ground. And sitting there in all that cool dust and darkness was the biggest, blackest car I had ever seen.