Arden smiled broadly. “See you soon, I hope.”
I ran back toward Papa’s voice, hoping he wouldn’t guess where I’d been. I nearly collided with him as he came striding along the faint path. “Where’ve you been?” he demanded, seizing hold of my arm and swinging me halfway around him. “What are you running from?”
I stared up into his face. As always, he looked wonderfully handsome, clean, wearing a new three-piece stockbroker’s suit, tailored to perfection. Even as he let go of my arm, he brushed away dried leaves that clung to his sleeve. He checked his trousers to see if the briars had snagged them, and, if they had, he might have treated me worse. As it was, his quick inspection found his new suit undamaged, so he could smile at me enough to take some of the fear from my heart. “I’ve been calling you for ten minutes. Audrina, haven’t I told you repeatedly to stay out of the woods?”
“But Papa, it’s such a beautiful day, and I wanted to see where the rabbits run to hide. I wanted to pick wild strawberries, and blueberries and find forget-me-nots. I wanted lilies of the valley to put in my bedroom to make it smell pretty.”
“You didn’t follow this path all the way to the end, did you?” There was something peculiar in his dark, dark eyes, something that warned me not to tell him about meeting Arden Lowe and his mother.
“No, Papa. I remembered what I promised and stopped following the rabbit. Papa, rabbits run so very fast.”
“Good,” he said, snatching my hand again and spinning me around so I could do nothing but be dragged along as I tried to keep up with the stride of his exceptionally long legs. “I hope you never lie to me, Audrina. Liars come to no good end.”
Nervously, I swallowed. “Why are you home so early, Papa?”
He looked backward to scowl. “I had a feeling about you this morning at breakfast. You looked so secretive. I sat in my office and wondered if you might not just get the notion to visit the new people who moved into that cottage. Now hear this, girl, you are never to go over there. Understand? We need the rent money, but they are not our social equals, so leave them alone.”
It was terrible to have a father who could read your mind. I had to try again to make him see how much I needed friends. “But, Papa, I thought you said Momma could invite the new neighbor lady to Tuesday teas.”
“No, not after what I found out about them. There are a lot of old sayings in this world, and most of them should be heeded. Birds of a feather flock together—and I don’t want my bird flocking with those beneath her. Common people will steal your specialness and make you just a member of the herd. I want you to be a leader, one who stands out from the crowd. People are sheep, Audrina, stupid sheep, ready to follow the one who has the strength to be different. And you don’t have to worry about having friends when our family is going to increase soon. Think of how much fun it will be to have a little brother or sister. Make that baby your best friend.”
“Like Momma and her sister are friends?”
He threw me a hard look. “Audrina, your mother and her sister are to be pitied. They live in the same house, share the same meals but refuse to accept the best each could give the other. If only they’d break through that wall of resentment. But they never will. Each has her pride. Pride is a wonderful thing, though it can grow out of proportion. What you see each day is love turned inside out and turned into rivalry.”
I didn’t understand. Adults were still like the prism lights, changing colors constantly, confusing my thoughts.
“Sweetheart, promise you won’t go into the woods again.” I promised. He squeezed too hard on my fingers not to promise. He seemed satisfied and eased his pressure. “Now, here’s what I want you to do. Your mother needs you now that she’s not feeling well with this pregnancy. It goes that way sometimes. Try to help her as much as you can. And promise never to disappear and not let me know where you are.”
But he wasn’t going to let me go anywhere, not ever. Did he think I might run away?
“Oh, Papa,” I cried, throwing my arms about him again. “I’ll never leave you! I’ll stay and take care of you when you grow old. I’ll always love you, no matter what!”
He shook his head, looking sad. “You say that now, but you won’t remember when you meet some young man you think you love. You’ll forget me and think only of him. That’s the way life is, the old have to make way for the young.”
“No, Papa, you can stay with me even if I do marry … and I don’t think I will.”
“I hope not. Husbands have a way of not wanting parents around. Nobody wants old people around to clutter up their lives and create more expenses. That’s why I have to make more and more money, to save for my old age and your mother’s.”
Staring up at him, I felt old age would never touch him. He was too strong, too vigorous for age to gray his hair and put wrinkles on his face and sag his jowls.
“Are old ladies unwanted, too?” I asked.
“Not your mother’s kind,” he said with a bitter smile. “Somebody would always want your mother. And if no man wants her, she’d turn to you … so be there when or if she needs you. Be there when I need you, too.”
I shivered, not enjoying this kind of serious, grown-up talk when I had just met the first boy I could like. We neared the edge of the woods now, where the trees began to spread out and the lawn began. Papa was still talking.
“Sweet, there’s an old lady at the house whom you’ve never met. Your mother and I both want a boy so much that we feel we can’t wait until the birth to find out what sex we’re going to have. And I’ve been told this lady, Mrs. Allismore, has a talent for predicting the sex of an unborn child.”
As we neared the house, I paused to stare up at our grand old house that I saw as a stale and timeworn wedding cake; the cupola was where the bride and groom should have been but weren’t. I saw the tall narrow windows as sinister, slotted eyes looking out. When I was inside, I saw the windows as looking inward, keeping an eye on everyone, especially me.
Papa tugged me on. A strange little black car was parked on the long curving drive that needed repaying. Weeds shot up in all the many cracks that I was careful to step over, not wanting to break my mother’s back. I tried to pull my hand free from Papa’s so I wouldn’t have to be there and watch something that might be scary, but Papa pulled me through the front door, giving me no opportunity to run to my hideaway in the cupola. Once the doors were closed behind us, I was released. Adroitly, I avoided putting my feet on any rainbowed design the sun made through the stained-glass windows in the doors.
In the best of the front salons, my mother, Aunt Ellsbeth, Vera and an old, old woman were gathered together. Momma was lying on the purple velvet chaise. The old woman leaned above her. The moment she saw us come in, she took the wedding band from my mother’s finger and tied it to a piece of string. Vera leaned closer, looking very interested. Slowly, slowly, that old woman began to swing the ring tied to a string over my mother’s middle.
“If the ring swings vertically, it will be a boy,” muttered the old woman. “If it swings in a circle, it will be a girl.”
At first the ring moved irratically, terribly undecided; then it paused and changed course, and Papa began to smile. Soon his smile vanished as the ring tried to make a circle. Papa leaned forward and began to breathe heavily. Aunt Ellsbeth sat very tall and straight; her dark eyes held the same intense expectancy as Papa’s eyes. Vera drifted closer, her ebony eyes wide. Momma lifted her head and craned her neck to see what was going on and why nothing was being decided. I swallowed over the lump that closed my throat. “What’s wrong?” Momma asked in a worried way.
“You have to stay calm,” croaked Mrs. Allismore. Her witchlike face screwed into a tiny wrinkled prune. Her miniscule mouth pursed into a crudely stitched buttonhole. Hours seemed to pass instead of seconds as that ring on the string kept changing directions, settling nothing. “Has your doctor mentioned twins?” asked the old crone with a perplexed frown.
“No,” whispered
Momma, appearing even more alarmed. “He said the last time I went that he heard only one heartbeat.”
Papa reached to take her hand in his, then raised it to his cheek, rubbing it against his faint stubble. I could hear the slight raspy sound. Then he leaned to kiss Momma’s cheek.
“Lucky, don’t look so concerned. This is all tomfoolery anyway. God will send us the right child; we don’t have to worry.”
Yet Momma insisted that Mrs. Allismore try for a while longer. Five excruciating minutes passed before the old woman grimly untied the string from the ring and handed Momma her wedding band. “Ma’am, I hate to say this, but what you’re carrying is not male or female.”
Momma let out a small terrified cry.
Never before had I seen Papa fly into such a rage. “Get out of here!” he yelled. “Look at my wife! You’ve scared her half to death.” He shoved the old woman toward the door, and to my utter amazement he shoved a twenty-dollar bill into her hand. Why was he paying her so much money?
“It’s fifty dollars, sir.”
“It’s twenty or nothing for a report like that,” barked Papa, shoving her outside and locking the door behind her. When I entered the salon again, Vera had moved into the shadows to stare at Papa with hard eyes. She had a huge chunk of chocolate cake in her hands, left for me to eat for dinner dessert… and she’d eaten twice as much last night.
Catching my glare, she grinned and licked chocolate from her fingers. “All gone, now, sweet Audrina. None left for you, because you had to steal away. Where did you go, sweet Audrina?”
“Shut up!” ordered Papa, falling on his knees beside the couch where Momma lay crying. He tried to console her by saying it was a crackpot idea in the first place. Momma threw her arms about him and really bawled. “Damian, what could she have meant? Everyone says her predictions come true every time.”
“Well, not this time.”
Vera balled up the wax paper that had held her cake and shoved it into her pocket. “I believe Mrs. Allismore is one hundred percent right. Another freak is about to come into this Whitefern house. I can smell it in the air.” With that she headed toward the foyer—but not quickly enough. In a bounding flash Papa was on his feet and she was over his knee. He yanked up her skirt and began to spank her so hard I could see through her transparent white nylon panties how red her buttocks grew. She screamed and fought him, trying to wiggle free, but in no way could she match his strength.
“Stop it, Damian!” screamed my mother and my aunt simultaneously. “That’s enough, Damian,” Momma finished, raising up on one elbow and looking very weak.
Ruthlessly, Papa shoved Vera off his lap so that she fell on the floor. She began to crawl away, trying to tug down her skirt and cover her panties. “How could you, Damian?” asked my aunt. “Vera is a young woman—much too old to be spanked. I wouldn’t blame her if she never forgives you.”
After that, we ate dinner. Everyone was so angry that only Vera and my aunt managed to clean their plates. Later that night I heard Momma sobbing in Papa’s arms, still worried about her unborn baby. “Damian, something is wrong with this baby. Sometimes it moves constantly, keeping me awake, and other times it doesn’t move at all.”
“Sssh,” he comforted softly. “All babies are different. We’re two healthy people. We’ll have another healthy baby. That woman has no more divining power than I do.”
What could have been a wonderful summer was spoiled because Vera insisted on following me everywhere. Time and again I tried to slip through the woods without Vera knowing, but she seemed to smell my thoughts and, like an Indian, she was on my trail. Though Arden’s mother insisted that we call her Billie, this felt strange. When she kept insisting, finally I did. She was the only adult I’d ever met who was ready to share her adult knowledge with me in a way I could understand. I liked it best when I could steal over without Vera, who had a way of dominating all conversations. Every time we visited, we both went away wondering why Billie didn’t invite us into her cottage. I was too polite to say anything. Vera was pretending to be mannerly, so she didn’t mention it either.
One day I heard Arden tell Billie that Vera was twelve. I stared at him, feeling very strange. He knew more about Vera than I did. “Did she tell you that?” I asked.
“Gosh, no,” he laughed. “Vera’s got nutty ideas about telling her age. But she is listed on the school register, and I happen to know she’s twelve.” He gave me a shy smile. “Are you trying to tell me you don’t know your own sister’s correct age?”
Quickly I covered. “Of course I do. She says people have long memories, so she’s going to pass around so many lies that no one will ever know years from now just what age she was this summer.”
Despite Vera, I did have fun that summer. It seemed to me that Billie gave me three times the warmth she gave Vera, and as shameful as it seemed, she seemed more concerned about my welfare than my own mother did. But Momma wasn’t feeling well, and I could forgive her. Dark circles appeared beneath her eyes. She walked with her hand supporting her back. She stopped playing the piano and even stopped reading her paperback romances. Every day she’d fall asleep on the purple chaise with the book on her swollen breasts. I loved her so much I’d stand and watch her sleeping, so afraid for her and the little baby that wasn’t a boy or a girl. Vera was telling me all the time it was going to be a “neutered” baby of no sex, like a doll. “Nothing between its legs,” she’d laugh. “That does happen sometimes. It’s a fact. One of the bizarre things that nature can do. It’s written about in medical books.”
Monthly cramps that kept Vera in bed gave me my best times to run to Arden and Billie. Arden and I ate picnic lunches under the trees, spread on red and white checkered gingham tablecloths. I never felt afraid of him. When finally he did touch me, it was to feel my hair. I didn’t mind that.
“When is your birthday?” he asked one day while I was sprawled on my back, staring up through the tree above, trying to see the clouds and make them into sailing ships. “September the ninth,” I answered unhappily. “I had an older sister who died exactly nine years before I was born. She had my very same name.”
Until I’d said this, Arden had been busy hammering a dent out of some tiny wheel he meant to use on something. He stopped hammering and stared at me in a strange way. “An older sister? With your same name?”
“Yes. She was found dead in the woods, under a golden raintree, and because of that, I’m never supposed to come here.”
“But you are here,” he said in a strange voice. “How do you dare to come?”
I smiled. “I’d dare anything to visit Billie.”
“To visit my mom? Why, that’s very sweet, but what about me?”
That’s when I turned on my side so he couldn’t see my face. “Oh, I guess I can put up with you.”
I turned to peek at him, and he was just sitting there cross-legged in his white shorts, his chest bare and glistening where sunlight hit it. “Well,” he said, picking up the hammer and beginning to beat on that little wheel again, “I guess that tells me you’ve got a lot of growing up to do—or else it tells me you’re quite a lot like your sister after all.”
“She’s not my sister, Arden, but my cousin. My parents only pretend she’s theirs to save my aunt from the shame. My aunt went away and came back almost two years later. Vera was only one year old. My aunt was so sure the father of Vera would take one look at his baby and fall in love with her. It didn’t happen that way. While my aunt was gone, he married someone else.”
Arden didn’t say one word. He just smiled to let me know he didn’t care who Vera was.
Arden loved his mother more than I thought boys ever could. When she called him, he’d jump up to fly into the house. He’d hang up her wash and take it down. He carried out the garbage cans, something my papa would never do. Arden had strong principles about honesty, loyalty, about helping those who needed it, about devotion and dedication to duty, and he had something else he didn’t talk about, but I
noticed it anyway. He had an aesthetic eye that seemed to appreciate beauty more than most people did. He’d stop in the woods and work for hours to dig up a bit of quartz that looked like a huge pink diamond. “I’m going to have this made into a pendant for the girl I marry someday. I just don’t know what form it ought to take. What do you think, Audrina?”
I felt envious of that girl he’d marry one day even as I took the quartz and turned it over. It had many strange convolutions, but in the center were colors so bright and clear it resembled a rose. “Why not a rose? Just the blossom full and open, not a bud.”
“A rose blossom it will be, then,” he said, tucking the quartz into his pocket. “Someday when I’m rich, I’m going to give the girl I love everything she’s ever dreamed of wanting, and I’m going to do that for my mom, too.” A shadow passed over his face. “The only thing is, money can’t buy what my mom wants most.”
“What’s that? If that’s not too personal to ask.”
“It’s personal, very personal.” He grew silent, but that was all right. We could go for hours without speaking and still we managed to feel comfortable with each other. I lay on the grass watching him repair his bicycle, glancing at his mother in the window as she blended some mixture for a cake, and I thought this was the way real families were supposed to live, without shouting, arguing, fighting all the time. Shadows in the house put shadows in the mind. Out here under the sky and trees the shadows were only temporary. Whitefern was permanently, densely shadowed.
“Audrina,” Arden said suddenly, still fiddling with the spokes of his bike, “what do you really think of me?”
I liked him more than I wanted to admit, but in no way did I want to tell him that. Why would a boy of twelve want to waste his time on a girl of seven? Surely Vera must appeal to him more. But I didn’t want to ask this, either. “You are my first friend, Arden, and I guess I am very grateful you bother with me at all.”
His eyes met mine briefly, and I saw something glistening in them like tears—why would he cry because I said that? “I’m going to have to tell you something one day, and you’re not going to like me after I do.”