The Anna Papers

by Ellen Gilchrist

  Daniel reached in his shirt pocket for a cigarette and lit it. He offered one to Anna but she shook her head. “I quit,” she said. “What do you think of her?”

  “She’s nice. A very nice girl. I think I’ll take them down to the farm for the weekend,” he added. “I don’t want Mom and Dad in on this yet. She can see the old place. She’ll like that.”

  “Do you want me to go?”

  “Hell, yes. You damn well better go. You’re the one who started this.”

  “I may have produced this segment but it started when you fucked their mothers seventeen years ago. I’m glad you did. My God, what riches, what beautiful girls.”

  “Anna, don’t talk like that in front of them. I mean, just cut that out for now.”

  “Okay, whatever you want. People don’t fuck. People spring up and get delivered by American Airlines. The world is a piece of cake.”

  “What do you need to go out to the country?”

  “We can stop by my place and I’ll get some things. Come on, let’s go follow them.”

  They went by Anna’s and got her things and then they drove fifteen miles out into the country to a farmhouse the first Hand in Mecklenburg County had built for his bride in 1767. It was kept up by a black family on the adjoining property and the Hands used the place for a summer house and hunting camp. The Manning family had land that adjoined it and there was an old burial ground where the two families still buried their dead. A knoll under oak trees at the top of a ridge. The girls had been quiet on the ride to the farm. They sat in the back seat without looking at each other and Anna pointed out landmarks to Olivia. “We could stop at the cemetery and show her the graves of her ancestors,” she said when they were almost to the house. “You want to do that?”

  “Why not,” Daniel said, and turned off the road onto the dirt lane leading up between the ancient trees.

  “Why are we doing this?” Jessie said. “This is so morbid. Why are we going up there?”

  “I would like to see it,” Olivia said. “I’ll see anything you want to show me.” Daniel stopped beside the gate to the cemetery and they got out and walked past the ruins of the chapel and on past the abandoned gardens until they could read the names on the tombstones. James McNiall Hand and Lydia Anne Walker and Celestine Garth and the McLaurins and Purcells and Martins and Clarks. Augustus Garth, Augusta Light, Alice Armene Light, Alicia Augustus Hand, Charles Poteet Hand, James Alexander Hand, Anna Elizabeth Hand, Anna de Bardeleban Hand, Colonel James Alexander Hand, Junior, He Served His Country and His God.

  “Here are your great-grandparents,” Daniel was saying. “They say that she was Welsh.”

  And that’s where Francis and I fucked one night when we were young and hot, Anna thought. Right there on that sunken grave and back there is where he is buried and here, by this grand old lady, is where Phelan and I hid a box of gold medallions and silver dollars and a handful of silver certificates which used to be called dollars. I wonder which one of us will get broke enough to have to dig them up. She walked over to the grave and examined the place beside it with her foot but the grass had not been disturbed for a long time. Phelan wouldn’t steal my golden treasure, Anna thought, and laughed to herself. I wonder if Jessie and Olivia would have liked me in my wilder days. Well, they will never see my wildness and if I’m lucky I won’t have to witness theirs.

  Olivia had wandered back to the very edge of the graves. Daniel had followed her. Jessie was sitting on the foundation of the ruined chapel looking out at the road.

  “This isn’t working out very well,” Anna said, coming up behind her. “What do you think is going wrong?”

  “She doesn’t look like me. I don’t look a thing like that. You said she looks like me.”

  “You don’t like the way she looks? That’s it?”

  “I didn’t say that. She looks okay. But I don’t look like that. She isn’t even as tall as I am.”

  “She isn’t as beautiful as you are either, but she’s nice to look at too. I’d be glad to have her for a sister.”

  “You always say things like that, but you don’t have to do them. You do anything you want to do.” Jessie turned around, gave Anna a black look. “What does she want here anyway? What does she want with us?”

  Anna sighed. “She wants her father, Jessie. Everyone deserves to have their parents acknowledge their presence in the world. There’s enough of your daddy. A girl has to know about her father, that’s so primal. I don’t know. You never had to share him. I was glad to share my parents, glad they had something to think about besides me. You never did this before, I know that.”

  “And you and Granddaddy hate each other. I never heard you be nice to each other a single time. You leave Grandmother’s the minute he comes in. Everyone says you aren’t even in his will.” Jessie stood up, faced Anna. The wind played a song in the trees above the graves. When did I hear that last? Anna thought. Who were we burying to that old sound?

  “I’m trying to change that with my father,” she said. “That’s one reason I came home to live. To make my peace with him.”

  “How long do we have to stay here?” Jessie said. “Go tell them to hurry up.” They were coming down the path, Daniel was talking, Olivia was looking up at him, hanging on his every word. She had her hand back on his sleeve. Jessie turned away and walked off in the direction of the road.

  “I’m starving,” Daniel said, when they were all back in the car. “Let’s get over to the house and fix something to eat. How about it, Jessie, you want to help me feed this long-lost sister of yours?”

  “I don’t know how anybody can eat after we spent the morning at a graveyard. I’m going to be cremated when I die. I wouldn’t let anybody bury me in the ground in some old concrete box.”

  “All right,” Daniel said. “Remember that, Anna, if Jessie dies she wants to be incinerated. Write that down.”

  “It isn’t funny,” Jessie said.

  “A lot of people get cremated in Tahlequah,” Olivia said. “It’s the thing to do in a lot of places now.”

  “We could go riding if we could catch the horses,” Jessie said. “They haven’t been ridden in ages. You want to catch them and all go riding?” She turned to Olivia. It was the first remark she had addressed to her in thirty minutes. “Aunt Anna said you knew how to ride. We only have eastern saddles. Can you ride them?”

  “I can ride anything.” Olivia lifted her shoulders. “My great-grandfather was the president of the Cherokee Nation. He is in the history of my people. There is a painting of him in a museum in Tulsa.” Her voice grew softer as she said it. Jessie looked at her sister now, really looked at her, saw a whole history outside her ability to imagine, then she looked away. She leaned up into the front seat and touched her father on the shoulder.

  They caught the Appaloosas, Shane and Cyprian, and an old gelding that had belonged to Daniel when he was a boy and Jessie’s little dark-maned mare. When they had saddled the horses Daniel asked Olivia which one she would like to ride.

  “I’ll take the big Appy,” she said.

  “Cyprian,” Daniel added. He offered her a leg up and she swung herself into the saddle and leaned down and spoke into the horse’s ear and he was still and stayed that way while the others mounted. “Let’s ride to the pond,” Jessie said. “It’s four miles across the pastures. It’s nice.” She was on the mare. Daniel was on the other Appaloosa and Anna was riding the gelding, a horse so old that they had all forgotten his age. He nuzzled her boot, remembering the sugar lumps she had fed him down through the years.

  It was a warm day for March, sunny and clear with only a small breeze. Daniel led the way out of the barnyard and up to the crest of the hill. A fenced pasture stretched out before them. In the distance was the small lake they called the Pond. There was a dam at one end and a levee.

  “This is the kind of day when Phelan would have made us all go swimming,” Anna said. “I haven’t been swimming in March in years. I guess that means it’s all over
, doesn’t it? ‘The days run away like wild horses over the hill.’” She giggled, reached down and patted the old gelding, whose name was Aberdeen. “This old sweetie is named Aberdeen,” she said to Olivia. “Because Daddy liked it there the only time Mother ever got him to leave the country.”

  “Will Cyprian jump?” Olivia asked. “Has anyone ever jumped him?”

  “I don’t know,” Daniel answered. “Jessie, would you jump Cyprian?”

  “I think he’ll jump,” Olivia said. “He feels like a jumper.” She pulled out in front of them and began to ride toward the fence. She tossed her hair over her shoulders and was gone. Daniel rose up in his stirrups and laughed out loud. “Catch her, Jess,” he yelled. “Let’s see you ride.” But there would be no catching Olivia. She was across the pasture and over the fence and gone. By the time they had her in sight again she was swimming Cyprian across the Pond. He struggled up the bank on the far side and she lay her body down across his neck and spoke to him and he was still. She sat on the saddle soaking wet and shivering and waited for them to come around by the Pond’s edge.

  “I had to do that,” she said, when they reached her. “I’m sorry that I’m wet.”

  When they got back to the house Olivia changed into dry clothes and Daniel took her off to see the buildings and barns from when the place had been a working farm. Anna went into the kitchen to make dinner. Jessie sat in the living room reading old magazines, curled up on the sofa with a dark expression on her face. Finally, she came into the kitchen and began to search the pantry for a Coke.

  “What a rude thing to do,” she began. “She could have killed Cyprian. He’s too old to be ridden like that.”

  “She just wanted to show off for your father. You do it.”

  “I do not. I don’t ever do stuff like that.”

  “Let’s show a little humanity around here, Jessie. She’s not going to take your father’s love away from you. She’s an addition to this setup, not a problem. Of course, if you perceive it as a problem, it will be one. If you perceive it as an interesting thing that could enrich your life, it will be that too. But not for free. Nothing is free.”

  “Oh, my God, are you going to start lecturing me?”

  “No, but hear me out. That’s what’s wrong with old Charlotte, Jessie. When this country was settled, it was created by adventurous people who thrived on challenge. Who wanted new things to happen and new ways of being, a new government even. But now it’s all settled down and nothing new happens and it’s as bad as the old world the settlers turned their backs on and left behind. Except for New Orleans and maybe Williamsburg and, oh well, never mind. Look, be kind to her, okay? You might need her someday.”

  “I doubt it. Are there any Cokes around here? Did you bring any?”

  “In the trunk of the car. I haven’t had time to get all the stuff out. Bring the rest of the groceries in, will you?” Anna put down the tomato she was peeling, wiped her hands, and pulled Jessie to her. “No one will ever take your place with me or with your dad or with any of us. Do you get that? Jessie, look at me. Do you believe that?”

  “Yes. I guess so. I just don’t see why she had to come here.” She bit her lip, looked up, saw Anna’s smile, began to laugh. You can always make Jessie laugh, Anna thought. Nothing will ever replace that divine little spark. “She is pretty, isn’t she?” Jessie said. “I was thinking I would like Karen to see her. In a way she does sort of look like me. She really looks like you, though. Like you and Grandmother.” She laughed out loud, taking a cookie from a sack Anna had opened onto a plate. “Dad’s harem children. It’s making him really nervous to have her here. I can tell.”

  “Get the groceries out of the car,” Anna said. “And you can help fix this supper.”

  Things were better at dinner. Jessie ate four buttered rolls and began to tell Olivia about her friends. “At night everyone goes to the parking lot at Southpark Mall and people sit on their cars. Dad never lets me go. He never lets me go anywhere.”

  “That’s not true,” he said. “You have lots of freedom.”

  “To go to school or glee club.” She waved a buttered roll in the air. “I’m free to go to boring boring boring school five days a week.”

  “I let you go to Southpark last week. With your buddy Hanna.”

  “They’re having a band there tonight. To raise money for the Special Olympics. We could go there if Dad would let me. I’m not just saying that to get to go.” She looked at him. Daniel filled Anna’s wineglass and then his own. He waited. Jessie went on. “I could show her where people go at night. We’d be back in a couple of hours. I’ll just drive her over there and come right back.”

  “Then go on,” he said. He took a twenty-dollar bill out of his billfold and handed it to Jessie. Then he handed one to Olivia. “You can give this to the band or you can blow it on makeup.” He laughed out loud. The air had cleared, had begun to clear.

  When the girls had left Daniel opened another bottle of wine. Anna did the dishes, knowing the skin would peel off her fingers for a week from the detergent; she scrubbed the pots and dried them to a shine and put them all away.

  “She can ride a goddamn horse,” Daniel said. “Goddamn, she can ride. I’d like to see her in a show, with a real horse.”

  “I think she’s more rodeo material. Daniel, be careful about Jessie. Don’t let her get jealous.”

  “You’re the one that thought this up, Anna. You’re the one that thought she had to know her sister. Well, I like the little girl. I’m glad she came here.”

  “You should talk to them about money. Tell them about their inheritances and how much you will send Olivia and keep it all aboveboard and out in the open.”

  “What are you talking about now?”

  “If I was Jessie I’d be afraid that Olivia would cut into my inheritance. The real fear is loss of your attention but it could manifest as worrying about money. Just have a talk with them.”

  “Anna, have a drink. Okay. You worry too much. I never saw anybody worry about things the way you do.”

  The girls returned in a few hours and bathed in the old-fashioned bathtub and rolled up their hair and went off to bed.

  “I liked your friends,” Olivia said. “The boy in the jeep with that other boy is really good-looking. I think he likes you.”

  “He goes to Washington and Lee. I don’t know what he was doing hanging around with those kids. I guess he got home for the weekend.”

  “What’s his name?”

  “William Lane. His folks live near my grandmother. He thinks he’s a big shot.”

  “Boys are different here.” Olivia watched Jessie’s face. It was hard to tell what she was thinking. Hard to decide what she liked. Hard to know what to say.

  “I’ve been thinking all afternoon about the way you ride. Where’d you learn to ride like that? I guess you’ve been doing it all your life, haven’t you? I mean, I have too, but only on weekends, not all the time. Half the time I had to be with my mother. We were in Washington one year. I almost failed a year of school because of that.”

  “Everyone rides where I come from. People go to rodeos and horse fairs. It’s poor country, Jessie. Not like this. There isn’t much to do.”

  “You live out in the country?”

  “On the edge of town. It’s not a farm. It’s just a house.”

  “What does it look like?”

  “Just a house. It’s small but we have enough room. My grandparents are there. I told you that.”

  “Do they bother you? Grandmother would drive me crazy if she lived with us. She’s so particular about things.”

  “The moon’s full,” Olivia sat up on an elbow. The girls were in twin beds, in a small rectangular room, with moonlight coming in the windows through the old white lace curtains. “I love the moon,” Olivia continued. “My Cherokee name is Tree. But it should be Moongirl. I have a friend whose name is Moongirl, but I don’t see her now.”

  “Is it funny being here?”

&nb
sp; “Yes. I thought he would want to talk with me. I guess he doesn’t talk much.”

  “Not to me. He talks to his friends. When they get drunk. Or to his girlfriends. He has about eighty girlfriends.”

  “Oh.”

  “He likes you a lot. I can tell.”

  “Well, I guess I was expecting too much.” They were quiet then, the moonlight pouring in over the white linen covers on their beds. Cloth that had come from Virginia with their great-grandmother, loomed by a great-great-aunt from flax grown in her yard and harvested and dried and spun.

  “I like you too,” Jessie continued, “and I’m glad you’re here. I never saw anyone ride a horse like that in my life. Aunt Anna’s eyes were a mile wide.”

  “She’s nice. But she’s sad somehow. I mean, there is something sad about her. Then she changes and is so funny.”

  “Dad said she used to be different. He says she has changed a lot.”

  “I’m going to sleep now.”

  “Olivia.”

  “Yes.”

  “He likes you. Dad likes you.”

  “I hope so. I hope that’s true.” The girls lay back on their beds and Olivia closed her eyes and tried to think of her home, of the yellow prairies and blue skies and her friends. But all she saw was her father’s face and she dreamed all night that when she touched it, it came .off in her hands, a ceremonial mask.

  Anna went to bed also and Daniel rolled out a sofa bed in the den. By eleven o’clock they had turned out all the lights and gone to sleep. Our dreams will mingle in this house tonight, Anna was thinking as she curled around her pillow. We will be changed by this encounter. None of our lives will ever be the same. Life is so fucking wonderful and fecund. One night, maybe in Momma’s house, and then this child is here, galloping over the hills and into the water. Jesus Christ, I’m sorry if it bothers Jessie but I’m glad I lived to see that. Oh, there are so many of them, oh, thank God for them. Sleep, Anna, leave it for now.