Swan Place (12 page)

I went back to my book. Back to New York City and all the people and things going on. And when Molly and Little Ellis got up, I knew I just had to find something different for us to do. Or that long, lonely Sunday afternoon was going to last forever.

“I’ve got a surprise
for you all,” I told them, after they had finished their cookies and milk.

“Prize?” Molly asked.

“SURprise,” I repeated.

They were already wearing pants and shirts, so I put on their shoes and socks and sat them on the couch.

“Stay there,” I commanded. I got a brown paper bag out of the pantry and in it I put an old sheet, the rest of the bag of cookies, an unopened quart carton of orange juice, and some of Molly and Roy-Ellis’s favorite storybooks. And we all set off down the road. Past other little gray houses like ours, with clotheslines in the backyards and one with an old car up on concrete blocks. Past the flour mill, quiet and deserted because of it being Sunday and nobody at work, and then along the dirt road all the way to the Waynesboro Highway. As soon as we reached that, we could see the big brick schoolhouse.

“The playground!” Molly chirped.

But Little Ellis had begun to whimper, because it was a long way to walk, and his legs were little. So for the rest of the way, I carried Little Ellis on my hip and held the grocery bag in my other hand, with Molly holding onto the bag, as well. It was the next best thing to me holding her hand, I thought.

We put the bag in the shade of a big tree, so our orange juice wouldn’t get warmed up. And then we started playing. We rode the seesaw, with Molly and Little Ellis on one end and me on the other. I had to sit pretty close to the middle for our weights to balance, but we laughed and had a good time anyway. Next, they wanted to go on the round-and-round—I really don’t know what it was called, but that’s what Molly called it. It had a round base that was mounted up on some kind of a pole, and metal bars for hanging onto. I put Molly and Little Ellis on and made sure they were holding tight, and then I pushed and ran until it was going fast, and I hopped on and stretched out on my back, so that I could see the rich, green leaves on the trees circling round over my head. It was such a wonderful feeling.

After we played for a good, long time—all with that hot summer sun burning down on us—I spread out the sheet in the shade, and we ate cookies and took turns drinking the orange juice. Then I started reading some of the books to Molly and Little Ellis, but I noticed that a brown pickup truck had turned in at the entrance to the school. I wondered maybe if it was someone come to tell us we couldn’t be on the playground when school wasn’t going on. It just kept on coming toward us so slowly, and there was something about it that made me feel worried. But I didn’t know what it was.

I didn’t want to frighten Molly and Little Ellis, so I said in my most cheerful voice, “Okay, let’s gather up our things and head on back toward home.” I had almost everything back in the bag when a strange man got out of the truck.

“You children okay?” he hollered to us.

“Yessir,” I yelled back.

“You got a grown-up with you?” The question sounded dangerous, and I was thinking about as hard as I could of what to say. Because Aunt Bett had talked to me several times about being careful around strangers, now that I was getting pretty grown up.

“You’ll be getting a woman’s figure soon, Dove,” she had said, shaking her head as if that would be a terrible thing. “So you gotta be careful.” Maybe I had frowned, or in some way shown my confusion, because Aunt Bett added in a whisper, “Men.” She said the word as if it made a bad taste in her mouth. And now here was a stranger—a man—and him asking if we were alone at the playground.

“You got a grown-up with you?” he repeated, and my scalp went all prickly.

“Our daddy’s coming for us any minute,” I said. I had the sheet folded across my arm, and I lifted it a little and looked at my arm, as if I had a watch on.

“Oh yes—he’ll be here any minute now.” And strangely, I almost believed it myself. Almost could see Roy-Ellis’s truck coming and Roy-Ellis, big and strong and wearing his cowboy boots and hat, walking up and standing beside us and taking care of us.

The man stared for a long time, and then he said, “Okay. You all want a ride?”

“Nosir
 . . .
No.” I changed from my good manners. He got back into his truck, but he took a while to drive away. We stayed right where we were. But I wondered if maybe he would be parked somewhere down the highway, in a place where he would be able to see us walking back home, and then he would know I’d lied—that nobody was coming for us.

All I could seem to think about was our own safe little gray house, and how I wished we were there and not out in a wide open playground with nothing near but a deserted school building.

I had to get us home where we would be safe. But how?
Don’t worry, Mama. I’ll take good care of Molly and Little Ellis.
Right at that moment, a huge flock of noisy, black crows flew over our heads and landed in the trees above us. They seemed to tilt their heads and look down at us with black eyes that were lost against the black feathers. Then all at once, they started cawing, over and over again, to each other or to me—I didn’t know which. So I just stood still and listened.

“Caw! Caw!”
they said. And in an instant I knew what they were saying.

“Caw! Caw!”

Run! Run!

I handed the storybooks to Molly.

“You carry these. They’re not heavy.”

I picked Little Ellis up, got him settled on my hip, and said, “We’ll go home a better way. C’mon, Molly. Hurry!”

“Not such a long way?” Molly’s mouth was in a pout.

“Yes,” I lied, not wanting to get her all upset. Because I would not take us all back along the highway, when maybe there was a strange man in a brown truck who would see us and know we didn’t have any big, strong daddy coming for us.
Run!
The crows had said. And I meant to do just that. We reached the highway and went in the opposite direction from the way we had come.

“Wrong way!” Molly announced.

“No, Molly. This is the right way. Trust me! Hurry!” Maybe she sensed my fear, because she didn’t pull against me again. We went on down the highway—fast—in the wrong direction, until I saw a house across the highway. We crossed over, went through the side yard of the house, and came to a thick stand of trees.

“This is the way,” I said, more to give myself confidence than to comfort Molly, and we all stepped into the thick woods. It was slow going, with Molly’s shoe coming off and briars catching our clothes, and Little Ellis feeling as heavy as a sack full of bricks. I got Molly’s shoe back on, untangled us from the briars, and shifted Little Ellis to my right hip. The muscles in my left arm were quivering from tiredness.

Forward!
That’s what I kept saying silently. And crazily, I remembered the T-shirt I borrowed at Aunt Bett’s on Easter Sunday afternoon.
Forward! Forward!
I thought again,
Mama’s big girl!

On and on, until through the trees off to my right, I could see yet another house. I thought we’d probably gone far enough to cut over and find our dirt road, but far, far away from where it met the highway we’d crossed and also maybe far away from a brown pickup truck that was waiting.

“This way,” I said to Molly, and I heard her sniffle.

“What’s wrong?” I said, but I was thinking,
What’s wrong, besides the fact that maybe I’ve gotten us lost, and you’re hot and tired and scratched by briars, and we don’t know where home is, and there’s a strange man around somewhere?

“Go home!” Molly fairly shrieked, and I had to work hard to stop myself from screaming those same words. Instead, I said, “That’s what we’re doing, Molly,” with a rough sound to my voice. I heaved Little Ellis upward from my hip and almost yanked Molly along as I trudged off toward the house I saw through the trees. All of a sudden a dog was barking—so loud and so close! We froze, right where we were.

“Who’s out there?” A man’s voice. Angry. I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. Little Ellis pressed his face into the side of my neck, and Molly stepped behind me, her arms wrapped around my legs.

“Who’s out there?” Louder. Angrier.

“Children, sir!” I yelled back.

“Children?” Still loud. Still angry. “Well, get outta here!”

“Yessir!” I yelled.

“You don’t get out, I’ll turn the dog loose.”

“We’re going!” I fairly screamed.

Little Ellis had begun sobbing against my neck, and I moved slowly across the side yard, with Molly still behind me, and as we passed, I saw the man—no shirt, leaning on the back porch banisters. Red face. Big white belly.

“Go on!” he yelled, and I sprinted forward, dragging Molly along. When I thought that we were far enough away from the angry man and his big dog, I stopped and tried to put Little Ellis down for a moment. But he hung on to me in all kinds of ways, and trying to unwrap him was like trying to get rid of a kudzu vine. Little Ellis and I wound up on the ground in a heap, and Molly piled right on top of us.

“It’s okay. It’s okay,” I tried to croon to them. But I was trying hard not to cry. Because Little Ellis was so heavy and Molly was so scared, and I still wasn’t sure of where we were. I finally got us all calmed down and sat up, and I found that I was looking through more brambles and trees… but through them, I could see a dirt road. Our road? Yes! And for the first time in what seemed like forever, I knew how to get us home.

Our little gray house
never looked better than when we came up the steps. We were tired and scratched and hungry, and when we got inside, my first thought was to call Aunt Bett and tell her what happened. But then I would have to tell her that Roy-Ellis wasn’t home—hadn’t been home. Before I could think it all through, the phone rang. It was Aunt Bett.

“Where’s Roy-Ellis?”

“Uh
 . . .
he’s gone to bed real early,” I said, wanting instead to cry and tell her how scared we had all been. “He’s awful tired from working so hard,” I added, so now there was no doubt about it. I had lied. Twice. Sure enough!

“And where have you all been all afternoon?” Aunt Bett went on. “I’ve been calling and calling. Are you all right? I’ve worried myself half to death!”

“I’m sorry, Aunt Bett. We just went for a walk, is all.” Maybe I’d lied flat out about Roy-Ellis, but that didn’t mean I had to keep on lying. And after all, we certainly had been for a walk!

“Well, just so you’re all okay,” Aunt Bett muttered.

“Yes’m.”

“And did you all change out of your church clothes before you went for a walk?”

“Yes’m.”

After I got off the phone, I tried so hard to settle myself down, if only for Molly and Little Ellis’s sake. But I knew I had to tell someone—anyone—about what happened. It was just bothering me too bad to keep it to myself, but I had to find a way to talk about it without letting Molly and Little Ellis know how scared I’d been. Of course, I wanted most of all to tell Aunt Bett, but I couldn’t do that. Not without breaking my word to Roy-Ellis. So who else could I tell? Who could I trust?

Savannah!

But it was a Sunday, and I couldn’t talk to her on a Sunday, because all she could do on the
Sabbath
was read the Bible and think about God, even after supper. All the way to bedtime. But I had to find a way—and I did! I got my Bible and led Molly and Little Ellis through the dried weeds under the old pecan trees—toward Aunt Mee’s house. As we got closer, I could make out Savannah sitting in a rocking chair on the front porch, with her head bent down and her eyes on the pages of the Bible in her lap. Toward the back of the house, I could hear dishes rattling. Then Molly and Little Ellis and I came—bold as brass!—across Aunt Mee’s immaculately swept front yard. Not a blade of grass to blemish its pure, clean surface! Savannah glanced up at us, and then she jerked her head toward the screened door, where Aunt Mee might appear at any moment. Then she bent her head obediently back down to the Bible lying open in her lap. But under her dark brows, her warm, brown eyes were watching us. We came up the steps, and I shushed Molly and Little Ellis, settling them at the end of the porch.