I sat down at the workbench, pulled out a
notepad, and began a letter to Logan. Quickly, with a high sense of peril all around, I scribbled out my desperate situation, how I needed to find Tom, Keith, and Our Jane, would he please do what he could to find out where Buck Henry lived? I gave him the Maryland license plate's first three numbers. When I finished the letter I gathered up a few other things, then hurried to the front door to see the address. I had to dash down to the corner to find the street name.
When I was back in the door I'd left open, I felt a fool, for there were magazines neatly stacked with Kitty's name, and the address and zip-code number. I rifled through a small desk to find an envelope and stamps.
Now all I had to do was find an opportunity to mail my first letter. Down in the basement my beautiful bride doll slept peacefully, awaiting that wonderful day when she and I, with Tom, Keith, and Our Jane, would head for Boston, leaving Fanny to enjoy herself in Winnerrow.
I tiptoed up the stairs, then on toward the bathroom, my letter stashed under the corner of the hall rug. I closed the bathroom door behind me and breathed a sigh of relief. The letter to Logan was my highway to freedom.
"Why, looky there, Cal, our lii gal is all dressed, ready fer church. So let's be on time fer a change."
"You look very pretty this morning," said Cal, sweeping his eyes over my new dress, and my face that had lost its redness, and most of the swelling had gone down.
"She'd look betta if she'd let me trim and shape that hair," said Kitty, eyeing me critically.
"No, leave her hair alone. I hate hair so placed and perfect. She's like a wildflower."
Kitty scowled and stared long and hard at Cal before she entered the kitchen and whipped breakfast together so fast I couldn't believe it would taste so good. Omelets. Why, I'd never known eggs could be so light and fluffy. Orange juice . . . oh, I prayed Our Jane, Keith, and Tom were drinking orange juice now, too. "Ya like my omelet?"
"It's delicious, Mother. You really know how to cook."
"I jus hope ya do," she said flatly.
The church we attended was like nothing I'd seen before, a stone cathedral, tall, splendid, dark inside. "Is it Catholic?" I whispered to Cal as we were entering and Kitty was talking to a woman she knew.
"Yes, but she's a Baptist," he whispered back.
"Kitty is trying hard to find God and tries all religions at least once. Right now she's pretending to be Catholic. Next week we may be Jewish, or Methodist, and once we even went to a ceremony worshiping Allah. Don't say anything to make her feel foolish.
The fact that she goes to church at all surprises me."
I loved the dark interior of that cathedral with all its candles burning, with its niches and holy statues, and the priest up there in his long robes saying words I couldn't understand, and I imagined he spoke of God's love for mankind, not his desire to punish them. The songs they sang I'd never heard before, yet I tried to sing along, while Kitty just moved her lips and I heard not a sound. Cal did as I did.
Before we could leave, Kitty had to visit the ladies' room, and that was when I ran to mail my letter to Logan. Cal watched me with a sad look. "Writing home already?" he asked when I returned. "I thought you liked it here."
"I do. But I have to find out where Tom is, and Our Jane and Keith. Fanny will be okay with Reverend Wise, but I have to keep in touch with my family or else we'll grow apart, so it's better to start now. People move about . . . I might never find them if I let too much time pass."
Gently he tilted my face up toward his. "Would it be so awful if you just forgot your old family and accepted your new one?"
Stinging tears filled my eyes. I blinked them away, or tried to. "Cal, I think you've been wonderful.
. . and Kitty—I mean Mother—is trying. . . but I love Tom, Our Jane, and Keith . . . even Fanny. We're blood kin, and have suffered through so much together, and that ties us together in ways happiness doesn't."
Compassion flickered through his light brown eyes. "Would you like me to help you find your brothers and sisters?"
"Would you?"
"I'll be happy to do what I can. You give me what information you have, and I'll do my best."
"Do yer best what?" asked Kitty, looking hard at both of us. "What ya two whisperin about, huh?"
"Doing my best to see that Heaven always stays happy in her new home, that's all," he said easily.
She kept her frown as she strode toward their white car, and we again headed for a place to eat, more fast food that didn't waste good money. Now Cal wanted to see a movie, but Kitty didn't like movies. "Kin't stand sittin in t'dark with so many strangas," she complained. "An t'kid's gotta get up early so she kin start school tomorra."
Just the word school made me happy. A big-city school—what was that going to be like?
More television watching that night, and for the third time I was put in the middle of their bed. This time Kitty put on a red nightgown edged with black lace. Cal didn't even glance her way. He slipped into the bed, snuggled up close to me. His strong arms embraced me tightly as he nestled his face in my hair.
I felt terribly frightened. And surprised.
"Get out t'bed!" yelled Kitty. "Won't have no kid seducin my man! Cal—take yer arm offa her!"
I thought I heard him chuckle as I headed
downstairs, to open up the sleep sofa that Cal had shown me how to use. In my arms I had sheets, blankets, and a wonderfully soft goosedown pillow.
For the first time in my life—a bed all my own. A room all my own, filled to overflowing with such a colorful zoo it's a wonder I was able to sleep at all.
The moment my eyes opened I thought of that new school, where there'd be hundreds or even thousands of new kids and I wouldn't know even one.
Although my clothes were ever so much better than they used to be, I'd already seen enough in Atlanta to know the clothes I had now weren't what most girls my age wore. They were cheap copies of better dresses, skirts, blouses, and sweaters. Lord, don't let them laugh at me in my too-large clothes, I prayed silently as I took a quick bath and pulled on the best of what Kitty had selected.
Something must have happened in Kitty's
bedroom that night, something that made her grouchier than usual in the morning. In the kitchen her pale eyes raked over me from head to feet. "Been easy on ya so far—but t'day begins yer real life. I expect ya t'be up early, an cookin every mornin from now on, not fiddlin in t'bathroom with yer hair fer hours on end."
"But, Mother, I don't know how to use a stove like that."
"Didn't I show ya how yesterday—t'day before?"
From the range to the dishwasher to the garbage disposal to the refrigerator she showed me again how to do everything. Then once more she led me down to the basement, where there was a pink washer and dryer set in a little alcove all its own, with shelves to hold more of Kitty's animal collection, and cabinets for boxes and plastic bottles of soap and detergents, softeners, bleaches, waxes, polishers, cleansers, window cleaners, toilet cleaners, brass and copper polish, silver polish- why, it went on forever. I wondered how they had any money left for food.
Food had been the main objective in our lives, back home in the hills; none of these cleaning products had even been imagined, or considered in the least necessary. Only lye soap for everything from shampoos to baths to scrubbing filthy clothes on the washboard. No wonder Kitty considered me a heathen.
"An ova there," said Kitty, pointing to a large space full of technical-looking equipment, "is where Cal has his home workshop. Likes t'fiddle away his time down here, he does. Now, don't ya botha none of his stuff. Some of it could be dangerous. Like that electric saw and all those carpentry tools. Fer gals like ya, not used t'stuff like that there all, only thin ya kin do is stay away. Keep that in mind, ya hear?"
"Yes."
"Yes what?"
"Yes, Mother."
"Now back t'business. Ya think ya kin wash an dry our clothes without tearin em
up or burnin em?"
"Yes, Mother."
"Ya betta mean it."
Back in the kitchen we found Cal had put on water for the coffee, and he was now sitting down to peruse the morning newspaper. He put it aside and smiled when we joined him. "Good morning, Heaven.
You're looking very fresh and pretty for your first day at a new school."
Kitty whipped around. "Didn't I tell ya she'd look all right soon enough?" she quibbled, sitting down, snatching up a section of the morning paper.
"Gotta see what celebrity is comin t'town . ." she mumbled.
I stood in the middle of the kitchen, not
knowing quite what to do. Kitty looked up, her eyes hard, cold, ruthless. "Okay, girl, cook."
Cook. I burned the thinly sliced bacon I'd never fried before. Our kind came in thick slabs, not done up in narrow slices and wrapped in fancy packages.
Kitty's eyes narrowed as she watched without comment.
I burned the toast, not knowing I'd moved the lever to dark when I'd wiped away fingerprints with the sponge Kitty had given me earlier, telling me I had to keep all chrome appliances free of spots and fingerprints.
The sunny-side ups that Cal wanted I fried too long. He barely ate his rubbery eggs. The coffee was the final straw. In a flash Kitty was up and across the slick kitchen floor, delivering to my face a stunning slap!
"ANY DAMN FOOL KIN TOAST BREAD!"
she screamed. "AN IDIOT FOOL KIN FRY BACON!
I should have known, should have!" She dragged me to the table and shoved me down. "I'll do it t'day, but t'morra it's you from then on--an if ya do what ya did t'day, I'll BOIL ya in wata next time! Cal, ya take yerself off t'work, buy anotha breakfast somewhere.
I'll have t'stay home from work anotha hour t'enroll this kid in school."
Cal put a kiss on Kitty's rouged cheek. Not a long, passionate one, only a dutiful peck. "Take it easy on the girl, Kitty. You're expecting an awful lot when you know she's not accustomed to modern gadgets. Give her time and she'll do just fine. I can tell by her eyes that she's intelligent."
"Kin't tell by her cookin, kin ya?"
He left.
Alone with Kitty I felt a fresh wave of anxiety.
Gone was the considerate woman who'd brushed my hair and curled it over her fingers. I'd already learned to fear the irrational, tempestuous swings of Kitty's moods, learned enough not to be fooled by her attempts at caring. Yet, with surprising patience, Kitty taught me all over again how to operate the kitchen range, the dishwasher, the trash compactor; and then she was instructing me on just how I had to stack the dishes, precisely stack them.
"Don't eva wanna look in these cabinets an see one thin out of place, ya understand?"
I nodded. She patted my cheek, hard. "Now run along an finish dressin, fer it's off-t'-school time."
The brick building had looked huge from the outside. Inside, I feared I'd be lost. Hundreds of adolescent children swarmed, all wearing wonderful clothes. Mine didn't fit at all. Not another girl had on the ugly kind of saddle shoes I wore, with white socks. The principal, Mr. Meeks, smiled at Kitty as if overwhelmed to see such a voluptuous woman in his office. He beamed at her bosom, which was on his eye level, and darn if he could raise his eyes long enough to see she had a pretty face as well.
"Why, of course, Mrs. Dennison, I'll take good care of your daughter, of course, why, of course . . ."
"Gonna go now," said Kitty at the door that would take her out into the hall. "Do what teachers tell ya t'do, an walk home. I've left ya a list of what t'do when I'm not there. Ya'll find t'cards on t'kitchen table. Hope t'come home t'a cleana, betta house—understand?"
"Yes, Mother."
She beamed at the principal, then sashayed down the hall, and darn if he didn't follow out to the hall to watch her departure. I realized from the way he stared after her that Kitty was the woman of many men's fantasies, all her feminine differences exaggerated.
It was hard that first day. I don't know if I imagined the hostility, or if it was real. I felt self-conscious with my long, wild hair, my cheap, ill-
fitting clothes (better than any I'd owned before, and yet I wasn't happy), my obvious distress at not knowing where to go or how to find the girls' room. A pretty-looking girl with brown hair took pity on me and showed me around between classes.
I was given tests to see which class my country education had prepared me for. I smiled to read the questions. Why, Miss Deale had covered all this a long time ago. And then I was thinking of Tom, and tears slipped from my eyes. I was placed in the ninth grade.
Somehow I found my way around the school,
and managed to get through a day that was
exceptionally long and tiring, and slowly, slowly, I walked home. It wasn't nearly as cold here as it had been in the mountains, nor was it as pretty. No white water bubbling over rocks, and no rabbits, squirrels, and raccoons. Just a cold winter's day, a bleak gray sky, and strange faces to tell me I was an alien in this city world.
I reached Eastwood Street, turned in at 210, used the key Kitty had given me, took off my new blue coat, hung it carefully in the hall closet, then hurried into the kitchen to stare at the five-by-eight cards on the kitchen table. I could almost hear Kitty saying, "Read those ova. List of instructions. Read em an learn yer duties."
"Yes."
"Yes what?"
"Yes, Mother."
I shook my head to clear it, then sat to read the cards in the sunless kitchen that didn't look so cheerful without all the lights on. I'd been warned to use the lights as little as possible when I was home alone, and never was Ito look at TV unless either Kitty or Cal was looking too.
The lists of what to do and not to do filled four cards.
DO'S
1. Every day, after every meal, wipe up the countertops, scrub the sinks.
2. After every meal, use another sponge to wipe off the refrigerator door, and keep everything inside neat and tidy, and check the meat and vegetable compartments to see nothing is rotten, or needing to be thrown out. It's up to you to see everything is used before it goes bad.
3. Use the dishwasher.
4. Grind up the soft garbage in the disposal, and never forget to turn on the cold water when it's running.
5. Washed dishes are to be removed
immediately, put in cupboards in exact placement.
Never stack cups one inside the other.
6. Silverware is to be neatly arranged in trays for forks, knives, spoons, not tossed in the drawer in a heap.
7. Clothes have to be sorted before washing. All whites with whites. Darks with darks. My lingerie goes in a mesh bag—use gentle cycle. My washable clothes, use cold water, and cold water soap. Wash Cal's socks by themselves. Wash sheets, pillowcases, and towels by themselves. Your clothes wash last, by themselves.
8. Dry clothes as instructed on the dryer I showed you how to use.
9. Hang clothes in closets. Mine in mine, Cal's in his. Yours in the broom closet. Fold underwear and put in correct drawers. Fold sheets and cases like what you find in the linen closet. Keep everything neat.
10. Every day wipe up kitchen and baths with warm water containing disinfectant.
11. Once a week, scrub kitchen floor with
liquid cleanser I showed you, and once a month remove buildup of wax, then reapply wax. Once a week, scrub bathroom floors, clean grout in shower stall.
Scrub out tub after every bath you take, I take, and Cal takes.
12. Every other day run the vacuum over all the carpets in the house. Move the furniture aside once a week and sweep under everything. Check under chairs and tables for spiders and webs.
13.Dust everything, every day. Pick things up.
14. First thing after Cal and me are gone, clean up the kitchen. Make the bed with clean linens, change towels in bathrooms.
The cards fell from my hand. I sat on, stunned.
Kitty didn't want a daughter, she wanted a slave! And I'd been so ready to d
o anything to please her if only she'd love me, and be like a mother. It wasn't fair for fate to always rob me of a mother just when I thought I had one.
Hot, bitter tears coursed down my cheeks as I realized the futility of my dream of winning Kitty's love. How could I live here or anywhere without someone who loved me? I brushed at my tears, tried to stop them, but they came, like a river undammed.
Just to have someone who needed me, who really loved me enough to be caring, was that too much to ask? If Kitty could only be a real mother, gladly I'd do everything on her list, and more—but she was making demands, issuing orders, making me feel used without consideration. Never saying please, or would you?—even Sarah had been more considerate than that.
So I sat on, doing nothing, feeling more
betrayed by the moment. Pa must have known what Kitty was, and he'd sold me to her, without heart, without kindness, forever punishing me for what I couldn't help or undo.
Bitterness dried my tears. I'd stay only until I could run, and Kitty'd rue the day she took me in to do more work in one day than Sarah had done in a month!
Ten times more work here than in the cabin, despite all the cleaning equipment. Feeling strange, weak, I stared at the cards lying on the table, forgetting to read the last one, and when I tried to find it later on, I couldn't.
I'd ask Cal, who seemed to like me, what Kitty could have written on that last card. For if I didn't know what not to do, ten to one I'd be sure to do it, and Kitty would somehow know.
For a while I just sat on in the kitchen,
everything clean and bright around me, while my heart ached for an old rickety cabin, dim and dirty, for familiar smells and all the beauty of the outside world.
No friendly cats here to rub against my legs, or big dogs that wagged furious tails to show how mean they were. Only ceramic animals of unnatural colors holding kitchen utensils, cat faces grinning from the wall, pink ducks parading toward an unseen pool.
Dizzy, that's how I felt from seeing so many colors against all the white.
When next I glanced at a clock, I jumped up.
Where had the time gone? I began to race around—how to finish before Kitty was home again? Those panicky butterflies were on wing again, battering my self-confidence. I'd never be able to please Kitty, not in a million years. There was something dark and treacherous in Kitty, something slippery and ugly hidden beneath all those wide smiles, lurking in those seawater eyes.
Heaven (Casteel Series #1) Page 25