Swan's Way (3 page)

Pansy and Sister giggled, picturing the scene.

“Actually, it was a wartime wedding, and not unlike many another back in those times. It was certainly good enough to satisfy all involved, especially the bride and the groom.”

“And afterward?” Pansy said.

“Afterward, Miz Melora bid the happy couple a good night. She sent the people back to their quarters, went to her own room, and left the newlyweds to their one night of bliss. At dawn, the captain kissed his bride and told her goodbye, before he rode away. His parting words to her were a vow to return, the minute the war was over, and marry her in proper fashion.”

“But by then, it was too late,” Pansy said sadly, sniffing back tears.

“You’re wrong, Pansy. It’s
never
too late for love,” Elspeth added, cryptically.

Just then, the breeze changed suddenly, bringing with it the scent of spring flowers. Clouds shifted and the heavens seemed to shine with more light. The three women sat up, staring off toward the woods, their senses keen with anticipation.

Ginna glanced at the fly-specked face of the clock over the dessert case. She was running late this afternoon. Her regular shift at the Rebel Yell Cafe had ended over an hour ago, but she couldn’t dash off and leave that mess on the red countertop. Her last customer, a three-hundred-pound trucker named “Slim,” had slopped his coffee, then topped off the spill with a blob of meringue from his lemon pie.

She glanced around. The lunch customers were long gone. Now the earlybird dinner crowd was beginning to file in. In another hour, the place would be filled again. She needed to leave
now
.

“Lucille,” Ginna called, “I gotta go, or I’ll miss the last bus. Can you take care of this for me?”

The other waitress, owner of the Rebel Yell, shook her red head, as she balanced a huge tray. “Sorry, hon, but I got five blueplate specials, three coffees, a water, and a tea to get out, and Cindy’s late for work again.”

With a sigh and another glance at the clock, Ginna gave a quick swipe at the counter, then another. Poor Lucille, she thought. What would she do if Cindy—never the most reliable employee—didn’t show up? Ginna would stay if it wasn’t Monday. But she just couldn’t. She had a standing appointment for Monday afternoons, the one bright, exciting spot in her otherwise ordinary life.

“You go on, hon,” Lucille called, as she served her customers. “I can hold the fort till Cindy shows up. I don’t want you to miss your bus.”

“Thanks, Lu!”

Her counter shining, Ginna whipped off her apron and slipped into the ladies’ room. Staring into the mirror over the less than sparkling sink, she grimaced at her reflection and vowed to start eating regular meals. She had dropped twenty pounds in the past few weeks. Her face was drawn, all sharp edges and angles. She looked ten years older than her age.

“Starting tomorrow, it’s three squares a day for you, Ginna Jones. Lots of potatoes with sour cream, chocolate éclairs, and Lucille’s fried chicken. I think I’ll start taking those vitamins the doctor gave me, too.”

Still staring, she squinted at her image. Her bottle-thick glasses didn’t help her looks, either. They magnified her eyes, so that she was reminded of a fish staring out of an aquarium. She reached into her bag for the contact lenses she had splurged on a few months ago. She didn’t wear them on the job, for fear of losing one in some customer’s beef stew or vegetable soup. Stowing her unattractive glasses, she quickly washed her hands and face, then popped in the delicate contacts. The drastic change in her appearance made her smile.

Quickly, she pulled the pins from the tightly coiled braid crowning her head. Her straw-colored hair took on the sheen of old gold, as she brushed it out, long, full, and wavy. Satisfied with the transformation, she grabbed her battered overnight bag from the waitresses’ locker, then headed for the back door in such a hurry that she didn’t even answer when Lucille called out, “See you tomorrow, hon.”

Mondays were Ginna’s treat, her fantasy, the only time she had all to herself. And, for some reason, this Monday seemed special. She wished like anything that she had gone on her weight-gaining program earlier. That was silly, of course. Her friends at Swan’s Quarter never said a thing about how skinny she was; they were just happy to see her whenever she came for a visit. They were old people, lonely people. They didn’t have many visitors. Consequently, they made Ginna feel like someone really special.

“Which I certainly am
not!”
she said, hurrying down Winchester’s busy main street to the bus stop. “Not in
this
life anyway.”

The red-and-silver bus pulled up, just as she reached the curb. The door swung open immediately.

“Cuttin’ it close today, aren’t you, Ginna? I looked for you on my earlier run.” Sam, the driver, gave her a big grin and laughed. He was obviously a man who loved his work.

“I got held up, but at least I’m not
too
late, thank goodness.” She fumbled in her purse for change.

“I’d of waited for you. I know it’s Monday.”

Good old Sam! He probably would have at that.

Ginna took a seat near the door, leaned her head back, and closed her eyes. As weary as she was after her eight-hour shift, she felt excitement bubbling in her blood. Again, she thought that for some reason this Monday seemed different—
special
. But why? She had no idea, but she knew she wouldn’t have missed it for the world. Something was about to happen—her horoscope today had said so. “Something exciting, perhaps even life-altering,” the paper had forecast, and she
believed
it.

Lost in thought, she didn’t realize the bus had reached the highway rest stop, until Sam said, “Hey, Ginna! We’re here. You gettin’ off or going all the way to Front Royal with me today?”

She jumped to her feet and flashed Sam a warm smile. “See you later.”

“You have a good one, now!”

Usually, she stood beside the highway to wave, as Sam pulled back into traffic. Today, however, she turned and rushed away. She was fairly quivering with excitement, as she hurried to the restroom to change clothes. Her friends at Swan’s Quarter wouldn’t know her without the old costume she had bought several years ago at a thrift shop.

The white ruffled gown and scarlet velvet opera cape were probably not authentic, but the gown looked as if it might have been made back before the Civil War. She could imagine some Swan family bride wearing it, as she descended the grand staircase at the old plantation on her wedding day. When Ginna put it on, she felt like a different person. She could almost forget that she lived alone, was still single at twenty-seven (twenty-eight in a few more days), and likely to remain so. She could even forget that she was a waitress with more bills to pay than money to pay them and more worries than joys in her life. On days like this—
special days—she
even let herself forget her doctor’s stern lectures.

With the antique satin and lace caressing her skin, she became, miraculously, another person entirely—the lovely and mysterious “Miss Ginna” from out of the past, come to take tea with her friends at the beautiful old plantation. Although Ginna dreamed constantly about the glory days of Swan’s Quarter, she knew she could never recreate the past. Still, she thought, somehow today
anything
seemed possible.

At times, especially when she wasn’t feeling well, the walk from the rest stop through the woods to Swan’s Quarter seemed to take forever. She would have to pause along the way to catch her breath. Today, though, clutching her cape against the autumn chill, it was as if she had wings on her feet. She felt breathless with her own speed and with the change she sensed coming over her. By the time she reached the edge of the smoky-gold woods, that other Ginna was completely gone, along with the Rebel Yell Cafe, her drab little apartment, and everything else in her life that was dull and ordinary. She might have been a time-traveler, happening upon the serene plantation with its lovely swan pond, manicured lawn, and giant tulip poplar.

She felt so different—almost childlike in her excitement. She imagined that a casual observer strolling through the forest might have taken her for little more than a wisp of autumn woodsmoke drifting among the trees. The brisk breeze blew her hair. Quickly, she tied it with a sky-blue ribbon, subduing her rampant waves that now looked the golden color of the turning leaves.

Ginna couldn’t know what an uncanny resemblance she held to Miss Virginia Swan. Both women had the same smoky-gold hair, the same slight figure, and those startling eyes which were of no earthly color. Instead, they gleamed with shades of heaven. Once, long ago, while painting a portrait of Virginia, an artist from England had described their hue as “celestial hazel”—shifting tints of sky-blue, storm-gray, moon-silver, and sun-gold.

Now Ginna’s eyes of that same heavenly hue focused on three figures in the distance. They were waiting for her, probably wondering why she was late for their weekly teatime visit.

She lingered beyond the swan pond, hidden by the gilded Virginia woods that smelled of sun-warmed holly and pine. A breeze stirred the branches of the huge tulip poplar, making them whisper secrets of long ago days and dreams gone awry. She felt herself drawn to the path that led to the house and to her friends. Something sharp and bittersweet beckoned to her soul, something not to be denied.

In some odd way, it seemed she remembered this feeling from the distant past, yet she could not interpret its meaning. Tears blurred her vision suddenly. Her heart raced. Was it the wind whispering, or did she hear a voice? It seemed to say, “He has come home. Home, at last!”

A shiver ran through her. A warm shiver, like the feel of spring rain on bare flesh. She stared again at the three women in the distance, nodding and whispering over the old silver teapot. She felt a tug at her heart.

Could it really be? Was he home, after all these years?

The strange thought puzzled her.
Who
had come home? And why would his return fill her with such keen anticipation and joy? Dismissing the questions, which obviously had no answers, she headed up the hill, almost running.

“Look!”
Sister cried, pointing toward the woods.

The other two women turned to see the great tulip poplar shimmering ghostlike in the golden afternoon light. A moment later, they caught sight of a slight figure clad all in scarlet and white, gliding along the path past the pond. The pair of swans poised motionless on the mirror surface, their graceful necks bowed together to form a heart.

“It’s Ginna,” Pansy said, with a sigh of relief and satisfaction. “She’s come. I knew she would.”

“At last!” Sister added.

Elspeth said nothing. She got a queer feeling in the pit of her stomach at the first glimpse of Ginna, the same kind of flesh-creeping, hair-raising sensation she got when she looked out her window on moonlit nights and saw the shimmering blue and gray ghosts of soldiers moving silently about in the woods. There was a change in the air, as always, when their young friend appeared. But this time, something was different. She sensed sorrow ahead. It took all her willpower to keep from shouting, “Go back—back wherever you come from!” Only her eagerness to tell Ginna their news stayed the impulse.

“You’re late, dear!” Sister scolded gently, as Ginna, glowing like fresh morning dew, took her seat at the table.

“Something kept me away.” Ginna wasn’t sure why she had hesitated so long at the edge of the woods. She still sensed a strangeness all about her.

“You young people lead such busy lives,” Pansy said, brightly. “We’re just thankful you can make time to visit us on Mondays.”

Elspeth poured a fourth cup of tea and handed it to Ginna. Pansy and Sister remained silent. Now that their guest had finally arrived, they could savor the anticipation a moment longer. How sweet it was to have
real
news to tell for a change!

Usually, the minute that Ginna arrived, all three women began talking at once. Unnerved by their extended silence, she urged, “Tell me everything that’s happened this week. I see you’ve all had your hair done. Have you had any visitors? Did the handsome young pastor from Front Royal come yesterday to preach and lead the singing?”

The three of them sat staring at her, smiling like cats that had just polished off the last of the cream.

“Well,
tell me!”
Ginna said, laughing at their pleased-as-punch expressions.

Pansy and Sister both turned to Elspeth, offering her the chance to be the first to break the news. After another pregnant pause, she said, “A young man’s come to Swan’s Quarter.”

“A
mysterious
young man,” Pansy put in.

“A
handsome
man,” Sister added. “And he’s
very
young.”

The women’s eyes danced with excitement, as they all stared at Ginna, eager to see her reaction to their news. It wasn’t often that anyone under the age of sixty came to Swan’s Quarter, and most of the sanatorium’s inmates were closer to ninety. Ginna knew that her three friends fretted constantly, because she had no man in her life. The trio were eternally trying to make matches for her with the male doctors and nurses about the place. Once they had even tried to fix her up with old Marcellus Lynch, the institution’s self-appointed Lothario in his mid-seventies. “Why, he’s only a youngster,” the ninety-two-year-old Sister had proclaimed, shocked when Ginna pointed out the difference in their ages.

“Did you hear that, Ginna? He’s
young!”
Elspeth emphasized.

“How
young?” Ginna asked suspiciously.

“His chart says thirty-two,” Pansy whispered.

Ginna gave the woman a mock-stern look, then laughed. “You’ve been sneaking into Dr. Kirkwood’s office again and rifling through his files?”

“I’d never!” Pansy blushed. She knew that everyone at Swan’s Quarter called her a busybody and a snoop. “It wasn’t
my
fault this time. The doctor had the chart on his desk when I went in for my last appointment. When he stepped out for a moment, I just thought I’d tidy up for him a bit. I couldn’t help it if the chart fell open when I dropped it.”