Wild Swans

by Jessica Spotswood

  She reaches over, tentatively, and puts her hand on my arm. “That wasn’t your fault.”

  I’ve heard that before, but hearing it from her breaks something inside me. I start sobbing silently, shaking with the force of it.

  And my mother—she sings.

  It’s just like I remember, the low honey-and-gravel sound of it. The song is beautiful and sad and so, so familiar. It’s about going away and coming back home.

  “Please come back,” I say when my tears have stopped. “Please don’t make them feel like this.”

  “I will, baby.” Erica points out the window. The rain still patters against the windshield but less ferociously. The seconds between lightning and thunder have lengthened. “Storm’s slowing down. You better go back inside.”

  “Are you sure this is how you want to do it?” I ask.

  She nods. “I know it’s shitty, leaving you and Dad to tell the girls… I have no right to ask you this, but—will you try to explain that I’m doing this for them, so they don’t hate me?” I nod and she scrubs at her eyes. “Thank you.”

  I open the door. “You’re welcome.”

  It’s the first real conversation I’ve ever had with my mother. The first time I’ve felt heard. Loved. Mothered.

  And now she’s leaving. I know she means well; I know she is trying. But I don’t know if I will ever see her again.

  • • •

  I don’t go back to sleep. I change clothes and make myself a cup of tea and read at the kitchen table till the sun is up. Then I go upstairs to wake Granddad, the note and Isobel’s cell phone clutched in my hand. He comes out of his bedroom as I raise my hand to knock.

  We haven’t spoken much since I left Java Jim’s. When he came home and found out how Gracie almost drowned, he hugged me tight and thanked God that I’d gotten there in time. Erica stood nearby with a sour look on her face. Like every time he said something nice to me, it took something away from her.

  We all sat around the table and had ice cream. It was the first time—and now maybe the last—that we were together as a family without a fight. Gracie was back to her chipper self quicker than the rest of us. I couldn’t stop worrying about what might have happened if I hadn’t left the open mic night early. Would Erica have gotten past her fear of the water and saved Gracie, or would I have lost my little sister? Erica was quiet the rest of the evening, hovering over Grace, maybe wondering the same thing.

  I hand Granddad the note. He reads it and cusses, running a hand over his beard. “Not again.”

  “I saw her before she left. She said she’ll be back this time,” I offer.

  “Are you all right?” Granddad’s eyes search my face like he’s looking for clues. Waiting for me to break, maybe. But I am learning I’m an awful lot more resilient than he or I or anyone else has been giving me credit for.

  “I am, actually,” I say. And I mean it. I’m sad—really sad—but I’m okay.

  “Will you stay home this morning and help me look after the girls? She might do a poor job of it sometimes, but Erica’s the only mother they’ve ever known, and her walking out like this…”

  We’re still talking in hushed voices. A few yards away, the girls are sleeping behind their closed door. “Of course. I’ll call the library and let them know there’s a family emergency. I’m sure they’ll understand.”

  “I think that’s best,” Granddad agrees. “But maybe say you’re not feeling well. No need for people to start asking questions.”

  Part of me wants to lash out at him the same way I did Erica. Denounce him for his damned pride, for all the ways he’s contributed to this mess. But his shoulders are slumped and his blue eyes are watery and bleary pre-coffee. This is a lot for anyone to deal with once, let alone twice.

  I’m not the only one who’s had to endure the whispers and poor-dearing over the years. How much shame must he have felt when Erica ran away the first time and left me behind? Whatever was or wasn’t his fault, she was the daughter he raised, and every arrow that people in this town slung in her direction must have felt like it went through him first.

  “No one needs to know the details, but it seems kind of pointless to lie,” I say. “People will find out that Erica’s gone.”

  “Ivy, I really don’t need everyone in town speculating about what’s wrong with my daughter, whether she went to rehab, whether she’s in a psychiatric hospital, whether it’s like mother, like daughter.”

  For a minute I think he means me. That I’m bound to inherit Erica’s problems. Then I realize that he means Erica and Grandmother.

  “What am I supposed to say? I don’t even know where she went,” he says.

  “I think we have to trust that she’s going to get better so she can come back for Gracie and Iz.” It sounds ludicrous, even to me, but what other choice do we have? “She knew she was going to lose them anyway. After what happened yesterday, one of us was going to call her ex.”

  “I tried to get her help before. Therapy. Inpatient stays for her eating disorder. As soon as she turned eighteen, she refused to go back. I guess Grace falling in the water yesterday was a wake-up call,” Granddad muses. “But her leaving again? People will talk.”

  “They will.” I take a deep breath, already dreading all the questions.

  The door across the hall creaks open. It’s Iz, her blond hair in wild curls around her face. She steps out into the hallway and shuts the door behind her. “What’s going on? I can hear you two whispering.” She sees her phone in Granddad’s hand. “Did Mama give you that?”

  Granddad nods. “Isobel, let’s go downstairs.”

  Iz scrunches up her face. “Now? It’s barely morning.”

  “I think it would be good for us to talk before Grace wakes up,” Granddad says, herding us toward the stairs.

  Iz darts a glance over her shoulder at me, her brown eyes enormous. “What happened? Is Mama… Is she dead?”

  My heart aches that that was her first thought.

  “No. But she’s gone away for a while,” Granddad says.

  “What do you mean, gone?” Iz asks.

  We file into the kitchen and Granddad hands her the note. She reads it and slumps into a chair.

  “Where did she go? When is she coming back?” Iz asks.

  Granddad and I exchange looks. “We don’t know.”

  “What if she doesn’t come back? What if she leaves us here forever, like she did with you?” Iz turns to me, her voice rising. “What if Dad doesn’t want me either? What will happen to me? Where will I live?”

  Granddad sits down next to her. Puts a hand on her shoulder. His hands are big and wrinkled, his knuckles swollen from arthritis. “You will always have a home here, Isobel. We’re your family.”

  “I want to talk to her. I want to know where she is. When she’s coming back.” Isobel dials her mother’s number and puts the phone to her ear. Her leg jiggles frantically. “It goes right to voice mail. She probably sees that it’s me. She probably sees that it’s me and she isn’t answering her fucking phone! What kind of mama—?” Her voice breaks.

  “We’re here, Iz. You aren’t alone,” I promise her.

  “I’m going to call Rick,” Granddad says. “Can you give me his number, Isobel? You can talk to him after I’ve had a chance to explain what’s happened.”

  “Here, use my phone.” Iz hands it back to him. “He’s under ‘Dad.’”

  Gracie and Iz are going away. That’s all I can think. If Rick is half the man his daughters think he is, he’ll cancel everything and be here in a few hours to take them home.

  I only had ten days with them.

  It’s not fair. We’re sisters. We should get to grow up together.

  I fight against another surge of anger at Erica. I was supposed to have this summer with them, at least.

  “Ivy, after you call in sick at the library, will you call down to the Sutton and tell Saundra that Isobel won’t be able to make it?” Granddad asks.

  “Tell her I�
��m not coming back,” Iz says.

  “Let’s wait and see what your father has to say. He might not be able to come get you right away.”

  Isobel glares. “Even if I’m stuck here, I’m not going back to that stupid theater camp.”

  “Isobel, honey, let’s wait until we have more information. I already paid for the whole month,” Granddad says.

  Iz gives him a look that is pure Erica. “Then that’s your own fault for wasting your money. I told you I didn’t want to go. You didn’t listen to me. Nobody ever listens to me except Dad.”

  Granddad frowns. “I know you’re upset with your mother right now, and I understand that, but you need to speak to me with respect.”

  “There’s room to be upset with both of you.” Iz straightens the leg of her purple-plaid pajama pants, and I fall a little more in love with my new sister. Sure, she can be a brat, but she’s brave enough to say what she thinks, to tell the truth, and in this family, that’s worth a hell of a lot.

  “She’s right,” I say, and they both turn to stare at me. “Well, she is. She told you no and you didn’t listen. This is going to be hard enough, and if you don’t let us handle it the way we need to—within reason, I mean—it’s going to be harder. Iz shouldn’t have to go to theater camp. And I’m not going to lie to people about what happened. You can play it off like Erica was always planning a short visit, but I’m not going to spin some pretty lie. I don’t think it’s okay for you to ask me to, any more than it was okay for Erica to ask me to lie about being their sister.”

  I think Granddad will argue with me, but he doesn’t. “You’re right,” he says. “I’m sorry. You tell people whatever you want.”

  He takes Isobel’s phone and goes to his study to call Rick. I sit at the table with Iz while she stares at Erica’s note, trying to make sense of it.

  “You bitched her out yesterday, didn’t you?” Isobel asks. She looks so young now, without her makeup, with her tousled-every-which-way hair and pajamas.

  “I told her you and Gracie deserve a better mother.” I say the words slowly, carefully. Isobel is searching for someone to blame, and it would be easy for her to pin Erica’s leaving on me.

  Iz smiles sadly. “I always thought a bad mother was better than none at all.”

  “I don’t know.” I have given this a lot of thought over the last week. “It was hard sometimes. Luisa took me bra shopping and to the gynecologist for the first time, and Claire gave me the sex talk before anybody else.” That earns a smile from Iz. “Mother’s Days were the worst. I was so jealous of my friends. I used to give Luisa presents, but it wasn’t the same. When I was little, like Gracie’s age, I used to wish Erica would come back. I wished on shooting stars and four-leaf clovers and pennies in fountains. And then she came back and she—”

  “She pretended she wasn’t even your mama.” Isobel winces.

  “Yep. And it really sucked. But I got through it, more or less. And you will too.”

  “How?” Iz asks. “What if Mama’s right and Dad doesn’t want me? What if Gracie goes home today and I have to stay here by myself and go to that stupid theater camp?”

  “You won’t be by yourself. You’ll have me. And you don’t have to go back to theater camp.” My voice is firm. “I’ll talk to Granddad for you if you want. You’ve inspired me, Iz. I want to be more like you.”

  Iz looks down at the silver nail polish peeling off her bitten-down fingernails. “Like me?”

  I nod. “You tell the truth even when it’s hard. You tell people what you want. I’m going to start doing that more too and make Granddad listen. He’s not in the habit of it, so it might be hard at first. I’m going to start off by telling him about Connor.”

  “He already knows about that. I kind of told him this weekend. I didn’t know it was a secret.” Iz grins, twirling a curl around her finger.

  Wait, Granddad knew and he still left Connor and me alone yesterday morning? With no one but Erica in the house, and no lecture? Maybe he does trust me. “Oh. Well, thanks. When do I get to see a picture of Kyle?”

  Iz tosses her hair over her shoulder. “Never. I broke up with him yesterday. He was such a douche bag. All he wanted to do was have sexy video chats, and he got all mad when I wouldn’t take my shirt off or talk dirty. It was gross.”

  “Good for you. You deserve better.”

  “I think I do.” She blushes. “Thanks.”

  Quiet stretches out between us, but for the first time it’s a comfortable quiet. Then:

  “Ivy?” Iz says, her voice soft.

  “Yeah?”

  “I’m sorry I was a bitch before. I didn’t ever think… I was so mad at you for lying that I didn’t think about how much this sucked for you too,” she confesses.

  “You don’t ever have to apologize for your feelings,” I tell her. “I would have been mad too if I were you.”

  “But I didn’t ever tell you I’m glad you’re my sister,” she says. “And I am.”

  I look at her—my brave-as-hell little sister—and grin. “I am too.”

  • • •

  It takes a while to get everything settled. Gracie wakes up to the news that her mama is gone, but we all assure her—hopefully, truthfully—that Erica’s gone away to get better and will be back soon. That she’s doing it because she loves Gracie and Iz and wants to be a better mama.

  Rick arrives midafternoon. There is never any question of whether he’ll take Isobel too. “She’s my daughter in every way that counts,” he says. He’s tall and lanky and kind. He helps the girls finish packing and promises to bring them back the following weekend with a truck to get the rest of their things and to visit us. He apologizes profusely for Erica. If he’s mad that we kept quiet about how bad things were, he doesn’t say so in front of the girls.

  Luisa bakes chocolate-chip cookies for them to take home. Gracie and Iz help, bickering over who gets to lick the batter from the spoon. Luisa watches them and wraps an arm around my waist. I lean into her, comforting myself with her steady presence.

  Alex even pops in at one point. “Hey, I heard you two were going back to DC,” he says. “I wanted to say bye.”

  “You just want our cookies!” Gracie accuses him, while Iz blushes. Unless I am mistaken, I think somebody’s got a crush.

  Alex grins and grabs a cookie from the counter. “That too.” He dances around the kitchen like a goofball and the girls giggle. He looks over and meets my eyes. “You have a minute?”

  I nod and slip out of the kitchen into the backyard. He stands next to me on the patio, hands shoved in the pockets of his cargo shorts. I am not sure what to expect, given the last thing I said to him was to go to hell, but…

  “You okay?” he asks.

  “I’m really going to miss them,” I admit.

  “They’re pretty cute.”

  “I think Iz thinks you’re pretty cute,” I joke without thinking.

  “What? Shut up,” he says, giving me a playful push. Then his shoulders stiffen and he shoves his hands back into his pockets. “I’ve gotta get to work. But I wanted to check on you.”

  “Thanks,” I say. “I appreciate that.”

  It feels weird and stilted, and I’m not sure if our friendship will ever be the same. But he’s here. He asked if I was okay. That means something.

  Later, Granddad and I stand with Gracie and Iz around Rick’s black SUV to say our good-byes. The afternoon sun beats down on the crown of my head and the pavement is hot beneath my feet. It reminds me of the afternoon the girls showed up in my life. Now they’re leaving, and it feels like the house will be too quiet without them.

  Gracie wraps her arms around my waist and hugs me tight. “Thank you for saving me.” She looks up at her dad. “Did Granddad tell you what happened, Daddy? I fell in the water and almost drowned, but Ivy jumped in and saved me. She’s like a superhero!”

  “She is a hero,” Rick agrees, mouthing thank you at me over her shoulder.

  “I’m going to miss you
,” Gracie says fiercely.

  “Me too. But we can video-chat.”

  “And you can come visit us in DC whenever you want. You’re family,” Rick says, and I think my heart grows three sizes. Even Isobel gives me a quick, awkward hug.

  As they drive down the lane, Granddad and I are both a little sniffly. He clears his throat. “Allergies.”

  Liar. He doesn’t have any allergies. I put my arm around his waist, leaning into his shoulder. “You’ve still got me.”

  Granddad smiles down at me. “Thank God for that. You were a huge help with the girls. I know you’ve only had a week or so, but you’re a good big sister. I’m proud of you.”

  I start sniffling again. “Really?”

  “Absolutely. You know, after you left Java Jim’s last night, I had a talk with Connor.”

  “Really? Um, what did you talk about?” I bite my lip.

  “He thought that you ran out because I was putting undue pressure on you. That maybe you don’t understand how proud I am of you.” Granddad looks down at me. “Maybe I don’t say it often enough, but you are the light of my life, Ivy. If I push you too hard sometimes, it’s only because you’re so bright, so curious, and I want you to know that you can do or be whatever you want.”

  “But I can’t do and be everything,” I say. “Sometimes I’m not sure I can do anything. I don’t have a gift like Dorothea or Grandmother or Erica. I’m so—mediocre.”

  “Mediocre?” Granddad roars. “Bullshit. No granddaughter of mine is mediocre.”

  I laugh through my tears. “Language, Granddad.”

  “You are a remarkably capable girl, Ivy. Women twice your age—hell, women my age—would have fallen apart with everything you’ve been through these last two weeks. And instead you kept this family together. You called people out on things when they needed it, myself included. And you seem to have found yourself a good young man.”

  I blush. “You kind of found him for me.”

  My phone chimes with a text. “Speak of the devil,” I say.

  Are you okay? Connor asks.

  We’ve been texting all day. He didn’t tell me that he talked to Granddad, but I think that’s one secret I can forgive.