“You’re a good learner, Dove,” she said. And that pleased me mightily!
Then we all went outside, and Buzzard showed Molly and Little Ellis how to get some of the ground ready for begonia plants she wanted to put in. And I walked down to the little pond and stood there for a long time, imagining all the beautiful, white swans that used to sail across it—back when Mr. and Mrs. Swan were young and beautiful and so much in love.
The last thing we did that day was to make Aunt Bett’s pork chop casserole, and when it was simmering away on the stove, I heard Crystal’s car come up in the back of the house.
“Crystal’s home,” I called. Molly and Little Ellis came out of the little room where they had been watching television, and when Crystal came in the back door, we were all waiting for her.
“Goodness, what’s going on?” she asked. She looked tired, but her face wasn’t that awful, pale color anymore.
“We’re just glad you’re home,” I said. “We’ve almost got supper ready. Did you have a good day at work?”
“Sure did,” Crystal laughed, digging into her smock pocket and coming out with a whole handful of dollar bills and some change. “Tips were just great!” Then she frowned, “Buzzard, did Dove remember to give you grocery money?”
“She sure did,” Buzzard said. “But wasn’t any need of it.”
“Oh yes, there certainly was,” Crystal argued back. And from out of the handful of bills, she pulled out three dollars.
“You put this away toward the next time you have to buy groceries,” she said, thrusting the bills at Buzzard.
“No need,” Buzzard said softly, but she took the bills anyway, after she got a good look at Crystal’s determined face.
“And were the little ones good for you?” she asked me.
“Good as gold.”
“And it wasn’t too much for you, having our family around all day?” she questioned Buzzard.
“Not at all,” Buzzard beamed. “Matter of fact, they did lots of good work for me. Saved my old hands and back a little.”
“Well, that’s good,” Crystal said. “Let me run upstairs and change my clothes before supper,” she said.
When Crystal came back downstairs, wearing blue jeans and with her hair in a ponytail, she looked almost like a little girl herself. But one with something tired-looking around the eyes. Buzzard and I had the table all set and a big platter of Aunt Bett’s pork chop casserole in the middle of it, and white rolls with real butter and big glasses of lemonade—because Buzzard said it was dangerous to drink milk when you ate pork. I remembered that we’d had milk with our sausage and biscuits for breakfast, but I didn’t say anything about that.
“Not good for you,” Buzzard declared. “Won’t have you all getting sick.” So lemonade it was, and we all ate and ate and didn’t say much, we were enjoying that casserole so much. And right when supper was over, we heard a low roll of thunder and the lights flickered.
“Storm coming,” Buzzard declared, getting up from the table, going to the pantry, and coming back with a big kerosene lantern.
“Sometimes we lose our power for a little while,” she said, putting a package of matches on the table, right beside the lantern. And sure enough, right at that moment, another low roll of thunder came, and the lights flickered once again and then went out.
Such darkness! But then we heard the scratch of a match and a little light put to the wick of the lamp, and in only a moment, there was a pool of warm, yellow light all over the table where we were sitting together. I looked around at Buzzard and Crystal and Molly and Little Ellis, and they were all leaning into the pool of light. And behind every one of them nothing but darkness.
I don’t know why, but I liked that ever so much. Us all huddled around the light, together and safe, while the thunder muttered and the wind came up. A few flashes of lightning lit the kitchen windows and the door to the back porch, but we didn’t really seem to care.
“We need a good storm. It’ll bring rain to water your begonias,” Buzzard said to Molly and Little Ellis. “Help them make pretty flowers.”
“Buzzard showed Molly and Little Ellis how to get the ground ready for new plants today,” I explained to Crystal.
“That was good of you,” Crystal said.
“No trouble,” Buzzard muttered. “Just wish you folks would stop thanking me all the time, is all.”
Her words surprised Crystal. “But we should thank you,” Crystal argued. “Look what you’ve done! Taken us all in when we had nowhere to go and had to run to keep Molly with us.” She stopped and clapped her hand over her mouth. But Molly was resting her cheek on her arms and watching the flame in the lamp.
“Be careful,” Buzzard whispered. Outside, the soft, warm rain started falling, sending the curtains lifting out from the window and putting a sweet perfume through the kitchen. We all just sat together, nobody saying much of anything. But we were content.
Buzzard was right: The storm didn’t last long, and within a few minutes, the lights came back on and the big refrigerator began its purring sounds.
“See?” Buzzard blew out the flame in the lamp.
Crystal said, “Buzzard and Dove, do you mind if I don’t help with cleaning up tonight? I’m just so tired, I want to go to bed early. But I’ll help next time, okay? And tomorrow, I’ll start in to finding us an attorney.”
“I know one that’s good,” Buzzard said, and I was thinking about those letters that had come in the mail to Buzzard that day. “You just work on getting some good rest, and we’ll get all the rest figured out.”
“I’ll be feeling better tomorrow—I promise,” Crystal said.
Buzzard and I cleared the table and did up the dishes, and when we were through, Buzzard said, “I’m right tired myself tonight, Dove. So can you get Molly and Little Ellis to bed?” I thought that was kind of a strange thing for her to say, but later on, I figured that maybe it was because we were getting ourselves all twined around each other—but in a real nice way.
“Sure. You go on to bed. We’ll be just fine.” So Buzzard made sure all the doors were locked, and I took Molly and Little Ellis upstairs. I didn’t want to give them a tub bath, because I was afraid we’d disturb Crystal, but I gave them sponge baths and got them into clean pajamas and read them another three stories before I went back downstairs and sat at the kitchen table once again, enjoying the story of Mr. and Mrs. Swan.
It was pretty late when I turned out the lights and went upstairs to bed. And lying there in that beautiful room, with Crystal breathing so sweet and steady, I thought long and hard about the first day of our new lives. About Mr. and Miz Swan and what Buzzard told Miz White, and about Molly and Little Ellis learning how to plant seeds, and about that heavy, fine paper I was writing on, and at the last, about how nice it was to be in a beautiful bedroom high up in that solid house, with all the sounds of the countryside around me. Crickets chirping, and somewhere far off—probably down at the pond—a big old frog adding his deep sound to the night. So that was the way our very first day at the Swan Place turned out, and when I finally fell asleep, I was thinking of two beautiful white swans gliding across the pond, swimming back and forth, back and forth—and with their graceful necks bowed and twined together.
Chapter Fourteen
I slept deeper and sweeter than I ever had in my whole life, but I still heard when Molly called to me, so I took her to the bathroom and then crawled back into that warm, safe bed and went right back into a deep, dreamless sleep. But when first light was coming in the window, I awoke to a strange sound. A choking kind of sound. Somebody being sick.
I raised up on my elbow and saw that the bathroom door was closed and Crystal’s bed was empty. She was sick again. I put my head back down on the pillow, and at the last, I put the pillow over my head. Because I was afraid that if I heard much more of that, I’d get sick myself. But after awhile, the terrible sounds stopped, and a few minutes later, I heard the bathroom door open.
“You ok
ay?” I asked.
“Oh sure,” Crystal said lightly. “Must have eaten something that didn’t agree with me, is all.” I took the pillow off of my head and looked at her. She was smiling to beat the band and starting to get dressed. But her face had that same pasty look she’d had the morning before.
“Are you sure?” I questioned her.
“Of course I’m sure,” she smiled at me again. “I gotta get ready for work.”
“Okay,” I said. “If you’re sure. I better go get Little Ellis up before he wets the bed.”
“Dove,” Crystal’s voice stopped me. “You did real good yesterday. I hope it will all go that smooth today.”
“Oh, it will,” I promised. “You just have a good day at work and don’t worry yourself. Maybe that’s what making you sick—you’re worrying so much.”
“Yeah. Maybe,” Crystal said.
When Molly and Little Ellis and I started down the stairs, I could smell that good, warm-flour smell of fresh biscuits coming from the kitchen. Buzzard was at the sink, and I guess Crystal had already left for work. In the middle of the table was a whole platter of hot biscuits, with butter and jelly to go on them. And glasses of milk.
“Oh, you made your good biscuits again!” I said to Buzzard.
“Sure doesn’t take much to please you all,” she grumbled, but I saw her smile.
Molly and Little Ellis and I ate three whole biscuits apiece, while Buzzard sat near us, sipping her coffee and watching us with a relish she tried to hide. When it was time to do up the dishes, I noticed Crystal’s teacup sitting at the side of the sink.
“Crystal was sick again this morning,” I told Buzzard. “You think we better wash her cup separately?”
“Don’t think so,” Buzzard said. “Think what’s she’s got, we can’t catch from her.”
“We can’t?”
“We can’t,” she repeated. And then she wouldn’t say anything else.
I made up my mind right then and there that I was going to tell Crystal she should see a doctor, but it was Saturday, and so she had to leave extra early, what with it being the busiest day at the salon. But I would say something to her when she came home. Maybe a doctor could give her some medicine so that she wouldn’t have to be sick every single morning.
Later, while I was washing up our breakfast dishes, Buzzard got a big broom out of the pantry and leaned it up against the sink. She started untying her apron. “I have to go into town for a few things,” she said. “Would you sweep off the back porch real good for me while I’m gone?”
“Sure.”
“And maybe wipe out the rocking chairs too—make sure they’re nice and clean?”
“Sure. What’s going on?” Because Buzzard’s voice had such a serious sound in it.
“Circle of Jesus,” she answered easily, as if I should know what that meant.
“Circle of Jesus?”
Buzzard had picked up her purse and was starting for the back door.
“What’s a Circle of Jesus?” I raised my voice so she would be sure to hear me. Because I couldn’t stand for her to leave before I knew what it was.
“Circle of Jesus is kind of like a club—women who are in my Sunday School class.” She smiled. “We’ve been meeting like this for so many years, I don’t even know how long it’s been. On this back porch when the weather’s nice. We study up for Sunday’s lesson. Read the Bible together. Gossip a little bit, maybe.”
“Oh.”
“And pray,” she added.
I finished drying the dishes, rubbing the dish cloth in a circular motion in the middle of each plate and thinking: Circle of Jesus. Circle of Jesus. When I’d put the last dish away, I took the broom, swept off the big back porch just as Buzzard had asked me to do, and then wiped out each of the wooden rocking chairs. Eight of them altogether. And the whole time, I kept thinking, Circle of Jesus! What a lovely sounding thing! Then I got to thinking about Miz Swan and wondering where she went to church—whenever she was home, of course. I’d need to ask Buzzard about that, because I meant to keep Aunt Bett’s good example to me and Molly and Little Ellis going strong. But Crystal—Sunday was her one and only day off, so I wouldn’t try to make her get up early. That just didn’t seem right. I heard the big car pulling into the garage, so I went out and helped Buzzard carry in the brown bags from the grocery store. The bag I carried had a big bunch of green grapes right up in the top, and they smelled so sweet and good and cold on that hot summer morning. Down in the bottom of the bag there must have been a cantaloupe, because I could smell that sweet perfumy aroma as well. And Buzzard was carrying a basket of ripe peaches whose aroma made my mouth water. When we got to the porch, Buzzard looked around it carefully. “Looks real nice,” she said.
“Thanks.” I didn’t add that I wasn’t used to having anybody to thank me for just doing the things I should be doing anyway. In the kitchen, we unloaded the sacks. Six cans of tuna—the expensive kind. The grapes and cantaloupe, a head of lettuce, and another big bag of apples.
“I got extra apples,” Buzzard said. “In case you and Molly and Little Ellis wanted some.”
“What are you going to make?”
“Some special tuna salad, with chopped apples and pecans in it, this fruit, all clean and chilled, some of my famous homemade white rolls, and for dessert, pecan pie.”
“For the Circle of Jesus?” I asked.
“Oh yes—those ladies sure do enjoy their food! Me too,” she added, patting her stomach. “But I need you to get out from under my feet a little while, so why don’t you take Molly and Little Ellis outside? Isn’t good for them to stay cooped up in the house all the time.” While I was helping Molly and Little Ellis get their shoes on, I could hear Buzzard working in the kitchen, and I never heard such flurry going on before—except for that time when Aunt Bett got so mad at Roy-Ellis. But these weren’t mad sounds at all. Just busy kitchen sounds. Chopping and stirring and the oven door opening and closing.
Later, Buzzard came out onto the porch, carrying a platter of sandwiches and with a cloth folded over her arm.
“You all sit down here on the steps and eat your lunch,” she said. “Way too hot in that kitchen for you.” Well, it may have been hot as the dickens in that kitchen, but the smells that were coming out of it made my stomach rumble.
“What’s that smells so good?” I asked Buzzard.
“My good, homemade yeast rolls,” she waggled her head a little, to let me know that she was proud of those rolls. “I always make ‘em for Circle of Jesus. Why, if I ever didn’t, I expect those good sisters would cause a riot or something! Now you all eat your sandwiches, and I’ll save out a few rolls for you to have, but not until after the meeting is over.”
“Can I come to the meeting?” I asked. “After I get Molly and Little Ellis down for their naps?”
Buzzard frowned. “I don’t think so. We don’t usually have guests at our meetings. But when it’s over, I’ll let you come out and meet all the sisters.”
Later, I had just finished reading a third story to Molly and Little Ellis and settled them down for their naps upstairs when I heard a truck driving around to the back of the house. From the window, I watched as it slowly rolled to a stop just outside the door to the back porch. The back of the truck had three big, wooden rocking chairs in it and three of the biggest women I’ve ever seen in my life were sitting in them. When the truck stopped, they got up and, moaning a little, they got down out of the back and went to the passenger side of the cab. Two of them hovered around for a minute or two, while the other one stepped back into the shade of a pecan tree and fanned herself with a cardboard fan like they have in church. When the other two backed away in perfect formation from the truck, I saw that there was a little bitty, very old, very bent woman riding on their strong black arms, just like she was sitting in a swing. Then the driver’s door opened, and yet another woman emerged. She was every bit as big as the other three, and as I watched them moving toward the back porch, I was think
ing that in all my life, I’d never seen such finely dressed folks.
Two of the women were wearing identical dresses: pink with white lace collars and white stocking and shoes. Of the other two, one was wearing a pale-green-and-white checked dress and the other a pale lavender. And the little bitty old lady they were carrying on their arms had on a buttercup-yellow dress that was so small, it could almost have fit Molly. They all wore snowy white gloves and hats with little nose-veils on them.
I watched them moving toward the back porch until I couldn’t see them from the window any longer.
Chapter Fifteen
I’ll say one thing: I did try very hard and for a long time not to go spy on the Circle of Jesus folks, but in the end, I did it anyway. Maybe it happened because the bedroom was so hot. I’m not sure. All I know is that I turned on the fan, aimed it at where Molly and Little Ellis were sleeping, and tiptoed down the stairs. In the hallway, I could hear the voices from the back porch, but I couldn’t make out the words. I peeked into the kitchen, where the dishes and glasses from the lunch were stacked by the sink.
Good! I thought. I’ll wash the dishes, and that will keep me from spying! So I put the dishes into a sink full of warm, soapy water, and I was careful not to let anything clatter loud enough for Buzzard to hear it and maybe make me go back upstairs until the meeting was over. After all the dishes were washed, dried, and put away, I washed and dried all the glasses and polished them until they gleamed. When Buzzard suddenly came into the kitchen, I jumped—like she’d caught me doing something wrong.
“What a nice thing for you to do!” she said in surprise.
“The Circle of Jesus meeting over?” I asked, realizing that I was truly disappointed that I had resisted the urge to spy.
“Time for dessert,” Buzzard answered, getting out some pretty cake plates and putting a big piece of pecan pie on each one. Then she put a scoop of vanilla ice cream on top of each slice.
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