Wild Swans (4 page)

“Mrs. Wainright? Are you out there?” Cally called.

For the first time in all the years she and her sister resided on Eldred’s Bend, Cally had never once been afraid. Even when the Klan dropped by one night ten years ago to warn them against selling to Negroes, she didn’t bat an eye when she and her sister stood on the porch and exchanged insults with bigots wearing sheets.

She even put buckshot into the backside of Stanley Cruder, whom she dated briefly, and left him when she realized he was one of those sheeted stooges out in the yard that night with a torch in hand. Despite the fact that he denied it, she knew. She could tell by his big feet jutting out from underneath the sheet and the stench of his pomade. And then there was the little matter of him neglecting to tell her about his wife and four kids. She put a stop to that real quick at the business end of her sister’s twelve-gauge.

But now, Cally was genuinely frightened. The shadow flitted along the porch like so many scattered autumn leaves. “Mrs. Wainwright?” she asked. She took a timid step toward the front door, wishing with all her heart that Ruby was there. But she was not. She was showing the apartment to the fellow who arrived in the strange car. Cally was alone and she’d have to contend with whatever was skulking around on the front porch without making so much as a sound.

That’s the problem,
Cally realized with an alarming jolt.
There’s no sound. I should hear Mrs. Wainwright clunking up the steps with that big African walking stick her grandson brought her from Nairobi. I would have heard that if she was up on the porch.

The air was thick and still. Even the large fans that blew air into the store seemed to be going exceedingly slow, as if it were cutting the air into slices as it spun. Gathering up her nerve, Cally passed the fans and stepped out onto the porch.

No one was there.

It was hot and still, not unusual for a Louisiana summer. But unnatural in a way that Cally couldn’t articulate. Even the giant loblolly pines lining the edge of the plantation proper seemed still, like soldiers standing at attention. An old dead tree, struck by lightning years before, stood sentry duty at the docks. It was gray and bare as if it had shed its leaves in November and forgotten it was now midsummer. Cally’s breath caught and she found herself instinctively stepping backwards toward the doorway. The tree was laden with buzzards.

This was in and of itself unusual, since animals of all sorts often died on the banks of the bayou, but the birds roosting there, their black feathers in sharp contrast against the sapphire of the sky, watching the plantation house, made Cally’s skin crawl. Their reddish eyes scanned the area, looked down at her and with one indifferent squawk, took flight into the mid day sky.

There was a sudden and definite chill in the air, punctuated by an undefined dread. Her eyes were drawn to the docks; then to the water that was dark, greenish-brown and still. Cally rubbed her arms and pushed the fans aside, shutting them off. She pulled the doors shut, turned off the lights and hung the closed sign. She sat on the floor behind the counter, drawing her knees up to her chin, wrapping her arms tight around her knees. She lowered her chin to her kneecaps and, holding her breath, listened.

Chapter Three

It had taken nearly an hour to for Cally to compose herself after scurrying behind the deli counter and hiding there like a frightened child. After scolding herself for her behavior, she stood, wiped the tears from her cheeks with the heels of her palms, adjusted her skirt and apron and reopened the store. As soon as she had, Mrs. Simons arrived with Mrs. Wainwright in tow. Relieved, she assisted the elderly lady to her favorite seat on the porch, then went back inside to finish Mrs. Wainwright’s order.

Mrs. Wainwright paid for her groceries, and surprised her by adding a dozen eggs and a box of baker’s chocolate to the bill. After a brief and wholly entertaining spat of gossip between herself and Mrs. Simons, she and Mrs. Wainwright left. Cally felt more at ease as normalcy returned to the bayou.

****

“She’s not up there,” Ruby grumbled as she stamped up the porch steps and into the store.

“What?” Cally asked, jerking out of her reverie.

“Quit brooding and pay attention,” Ruby said. “Althea’s gone. She was supposed to be up in her room and she’s not.” Ruby tapped her foot against the hard planked floor, displaying her inner agitation. “I told her not to leave. She knows we’re supposed to meet the Cathars this afternoon for tea and to discuss the rehearsal dinner.” She scowled as she went to the door and gazed up at the house. Mr. Lindt was sitting on the veranda, in his t-shirt of all things, smoking a Cuban cigar and drinking strong black coffee while reading one of those dreadful dime store novels.

“Ruby,” Cally began.

“—And I bought her that tea length pink dress for her to wear. You know the one with all the lace?” Ruby said. Her frown deepened. “She’s supposed to meet Hank today and she’s nowhere to be found.”

“Maybe she’s gone for a row,” Cally suggested, feeling off kilter because somehow she had managed to lose a substantial part of Ruby’s conversation. She walked out onto the porch and gazed out at the docks. “The raft’s gone. Either she took it or it floated off again.”

“She’s run off to see that boy no doubt,” Ruby snapped. She gazed up at the house once again. “Why didn’t you keep an eye on her?”

“I was minding the store, Sister,” Cally replied. “Besides, she ain’t a child anymore.”

Ruby shot her a glance. “Are you okay? You look peaked.”

For a second, Cally considered telling Ruby about what happened and decided against it.
It was, after all, just my mind playing tricks,
she told herself.
And it still is,
she thought.
I’m missing things. Ruby talked for a good five minutes and I don’t think I caught half of it.
Cally lowered her eyes, uncomfortable with her sister’s intense gaze.

“Is the heat getting to you, Sister?” Ruby asked, her tone softer, concerned.

“I missed lunch that’s all.”

“Well make a sandwich then,” Ruby said in a cranky offhanded way. “I can’t have you falling out on me, especially not at a time like this.”

Cally cut a slice of cheese off the large loaf in the counter fridge. She nibbled on it then noticed that it tasted odd, as if it were stale. She picked up the stick and looked it over. It was fresh, as fresh as cheese gets anyway. There was no mold or anything. But the cheese tasted odd...almost off.

Maybe it’s just me
, Cally thought as she put the stick of cheese back into the case. Ruby picked up the broom and began sweeping. Dust puffed up red and dull, only to spread out when the wind from the fans caught it and blew it back onto the floor. If Ruby noticed she didn’t say anything.

“I wonder if Mr. Lindt saw anything out of the ordinary,” Ruby said.

“Like what?” Cally said feeling apprehensive. Had she seen the shadow too?

“Oh, like a girl poling a raft down the bayou.”

“I wouldn’t worry so much, Sister,” Cally replied as she finished wiping down the counter. “Just call and postpone the danged tea. As jittery as you are, I don’t think you really need to go anyway.”

“I can’t,” Ruby said, her frustration apparent. She tucked strands of hair that had come loose back up underneath her scarf. “I spent too much money and have already borrowed the Cadillac.” She shook her head. “Doesn’t she realize how important this is?”

“Important to you or to her?” Cally asked.

Ruby glared at her younger sister. “Don’t you start,” she snapped. “I’ve got to go with or without her.” She snorted in exasperation. She untied her apron and pulled the scarf off her head, running her fingers through dark brown pin curls.

“Dang that girl. Well I’m going upstairs to get dressed. If you see her, hogtie her and make sure she stays put until I get back. I’ve got to salvage this somehow.”

****

When Althea arrived home several hours later, she found her aunt Cally sitting on the veranda with Mr. Lindt. Althea adjusted her blouse, picked the wisteria blossoms out of her hair and walked up the long wide expanse of manicured lawn toward the house. She tried her best to forget about the frightening shadow that moved of its own accord, with neither man nor master. She’d always heard about haints, spooks and
loup garous
, but this was the first time she’d actually encountered something she couldn’t explain. She tried to push the image out of her mind.
Maybe it was just a trick of the eye,
she thought.
Although Jake did see it too, maybe it fooled both of us. Maybe it was just the reflection on the water or maybe a swarm of buffalo gnats or...
her thoughts trailed off.

No. It was real. She was sure of it.

She and Jake hadn’t talked about the incident. After the thing passed them by, and they were sure it was gone, Jake picked up the pole and they rowed silently back to his house, where he said nothing as he jumped into the waist high water and half waded half swam back to the bank. He scrambled up over the levee and out of sight and she, feeling dull and abandoned, rowed the raft up to the docks where she tied off.

She sat with her feet dangling in the water, feeling somewhat stupefied by the experience. An alligator trundled from the far bank and glided into the water. Taking the hint, she removed her feet, scrambled up the dock and trudged back to the house, her hair dank, wisteria blossoms in her shirt.

“Look what the cat dragged in,” Cally said as Althea approached, “and I do mean cat.”

“What of it?” Althea snapped, sounding far harsher than she intended. She rubbed her right temple, the dull headache she’d nursed since her excursion with Jake promising to return full force.

“I advise you to get off that high horse you’re on,” Cally quipped. “And I’d do something about that shirt too, girlie, before
she
comes back. You know who I mean?” Cally regarded her through heavy lashes. “She might think you were up to something.”

“Sorry
Tante
,” Althea said as she tucked her shirt back into her shorts .

“Don’t sorry me. Sorry your mother. And sorry yourself when she finally catches up with you.”

“Oh my God that stupid tea,” Althea said as she mounted the steps and flopped down on one of the old green metal lawn chairs. “And there’s nothing wrong with tying my shirt up. It’s hot, I’ll have you know, and all the girls are doing it.”

“It’s your funeral,” Cally shrugged as she studied her cards.

“So where is the old bat anyway?” Althea asked.

Cally raised her eyebrows. “The old bat went on without you. She’s really mad too. Said she’s gonna strap you good when she gets home.”

“I’d like to see her try it,” Althea growled, her head throbbing in earnest now. “I’m too old for a strapping, and I won’t put up with it either. I’ve got a bad headache. And I don’t want to be bothered by some silly old tea.” She hooked a chair from another table and scooted it up. She propped her feet on it and watched as Mr. Lindt and her aunt played
Bourrée
. Inside the house a radio station was playing xydeco. Ordinarily Althea would dance to it, but now all it did was get on her nerves.

“She means well, you know,” Cally said as she dropped a quarter into the mease. Mr. Lindt did the same. “She wants the best for you, that’s all. But that uppity attitude of yours ain’t gonna make things any better for you.”

“The best she can give me is the freedom to choose who I want to marry and when.”

“I’m afraid that ain’t gonna happen dear heart. You’re only other choice is the habit and you know it.”

Althea folded her arms across her chest. “Or she’ll what?”

“Slap that rebellious look off your face for starters. Then throw you out of the house and disinherit you.”

“That’s hardly a threat
Tante
Cal. Disinherit me from what? Being landlady to a rundown old plantation house that should have been burned during the Northern Unpleasantness and a store and gas station hardly anybody goes to. And none of it belongs to her anyway, so all I’ll inherit are leases, and that’s only by the grace of God and Mrs. Bristow.”

“She’s got more than what you’ll get if you defy her any further,” Cally retorted. “You step your toes out of line and see what happens to young girls who get set out into the world with neither man nor trousseau.”

“It’s not the dark ages,” Althea said as she rested her elbows on the table and placed her chin in the palm of her hands. “I can get a job in a secretarial pool, or maybe become a nurse’s aid.”

“It’d help if you knew how to type, and do bookkeeping but you don’t. You refused to take the office ed. courses in school,” Cally replied as she studied her cards. “And as far as nursing school goes—”

“—Mom told me not to worry about it, so I didn’t. Just like there was no need to study hard and go to nursing school which is what I wanted in the first place.” She frowned into the crook of her arm.
I wish I had, though
, she told herself.
I really do.

“It’d be best if you stayed put and did as your ma says,” Cally advised. “She can’t afford to spend no money on you for either secretarial or nursing school.”

“She didn’t have trouble going broke for this stupid wedding. Besides,” she added, “you hinted there was a big inheritance if I stayed put and did as I was told.”

“I hinted of no such thing.”

“Yes you did.”

“I was referring to an investment in your future,” Cally corrected. “You don’t have the nerve to be a good nurse. Besides, why bust your hump when you can marry money and not have to lift a finger except to get your nails done?”

Mr. Lindt chuckled. “I believe that’s a
bourrée
, Miss Cally,” he said.

Cally looked at the cards, scowled, and said, “I believe you’re correct, Mr. Lindt.” She tossed her cards casually into the middle of the table. “Now see what you made me do, Althie? I lost track of the game and it cost me ten dollars.”

“You can afford to lose ten dollars if you can afford to bet it,” Althea retorted.

“You have a fresh mouth, young lady,” Cally replied as she removed a ten dollar bill pinned to her bra and handed it over to Mr. Lindt. “I always keep my wagers, Mr. Lindt. It was a pleasure playing with you.”

Lindt tipped his hat. “Thankee Miss Cally for teaching me this most delightful game. Would you care to try another hand?”

“I suppose not,” Cally replied. “I need to check in on Mrs. Ramsay. I’ll see if she’d like to sit outside for a bit, and maybe we can all have some po’ boys for supper.”

“Mom gets mad when you use up all the cold cuts for po’boys,” Althea observed, her eyes still downcast as she looked at the table. “You know how she is.”

“It’s too hot to cook. And none of us can endure Mrs. Ramsay’s chicken gumbo. Especially not on an evening like this. She can lump it if she don’t like it,” Cally replied. Althea grumbled. Mr. Lindt snorted and shook his head.

Cally winked at Mr. Lindt, rose and walked into the house. Althea slid deep in the chair with her arms folded across her chest. She looked as petulant as she felt. She heard Mr. Lindt utter a noise that sounded suspiciously like a snicker. She glanced over at him but he was gazing out toward the pines.

Cally has a good reason to be peeved
, Althea thought.
Mom makes us out to be stinking rich when we’re obviously not. And when Mom spends money on fancy dinners and expensive clothes while Cally has to wear last years skirts and eats from the deli and even then Mom quibbles over a few bites of cheese and bologna.
Althea slunk deeper into the metal chair, her elbows protruding over the metal arms.

If I was Tante Cally I wouldn’t put up with it, not for one hot moment.

Althea bit her lip.

Of course, if Tante Cally got fed up enough, the two of us could pack up and leave. I could just say no thanks when I stand in front of the priest. Just smile as pretty as you please and say no thanks mister rich boy, but I have a life and I don’t intend to spend it with you. My tante and I are going to go live it up in New Orleans...

“Excited about your wedding day?” Mr. Lindt asked.

“What?” Althea asked, breaking her reverie.

“I understand your mother is planning your wedding,” he said casually. “Congratulations.”

“And you are?”

Mr. Lindt held out his hand. “The name is Lindt. I rented the apartment from your mother this morning.”

“Oh yeah, the guy who showed up in the weird car.”

“The same.”

What happened to it?” Althea asked.

“What happened to what ?”

“The car.”

“The driver took it back to the garage.”

Althea grunted and returned to her dark thoughts.

Mr. Lindt shrugged. “Arranged marriages aren’t anything new, he said, returning to the subject. “They’ve been going on for centuries now. Poor people did it, wealthy people did it, and royalty did it...a lot...” he smiled. “I did it.”

“You did?” Althea said, unimpressed.

“Indeed. I didn’t meet my bride until the day of the wedding.”

“And did it work out for you?”

“It took some getting used to,” Mr. Lindt admitted. “But over the years we grew to love each other fiercely.”

“Really,” Althea scathed. “And why ain’t Mrs. Lindt with you now?”