The black swan (13 page)

"Yes'm, he 'sleep, an' he all cried out. It gwine take a whiles, but dis boy be all right. Dey boff gwine be all right. De Lawd see to dat." Then she added, as though the fiery determination of her will would make it so, "De Lawd an* Mammy."

Zoe felt a small creeping sense of shame as Mammy's hand lightly caressed the hair on Adam's neck, and her eyes rested on Tom. Zoe had thought little about Tom tonight. There had even been moments when, unwanted and unable to make herself needed, she had resented him and what he had brought down on her. Now, as though Mammy's strength were the magic key to her feelings, she looked at Tom and felt the pity, revulsion, and hope that she should have felt from the beginning and could not.

Zoe wondered if she'd ever be able to take what the world thrust at her without freezing inside. She had her own moral principles, but never the courage to impose them on others. Instead, she had always let someone or something stronger pull her along; time and again she was defeated and rendered ineffective to those she loved the most. How many times could she fail before there were no chances left?

During the following days Tom clung to the threads of life, his survival more a tribute to Mammy's tireless ministrations and kind-hearted bullying than to Tom's will to

live. She cleaned his wounds until he screamed in agony, but no trace of putrefaction or infection developed. She force-fed him. During his conscious moments she forced words from him, giving him a target for his hatred and an outlet for emotions, still cutting-sharp in a weak body. Mercilessly she dragged his beaten body and his unwilling mind away from death.

Adam was another matter. With him Mammy's ruthless hectoring didn't work. In body he was as sound and healthy as a young colt, but Adam already had a target for his hatred, and he wouldn't let go of it. He clung to the memory of that December day; it fired his rage and pushed back the monstrous guilt he felt for having failed to save Ullah or to help Tom soon enough. He learned to hide his guilt and fears behind the spearpoint of a single-minded desire: to find the man who had worn the Boar's-head mask.

As Tom slowly recovered, Adam hovered constantly in the sick room, silent, somber, brooding, and unnatural. During these days it was hard for Zoe to feel sympathy for him. He frightened and angered her. He hardly ate at all. He wouldn't go out with his friends. There was no laughter in him—nothing but the nightly dreams that awakened him in a cold, shaking sweat.

Zoe wanted to scream at him, shake him until he would do the things she thought he should. The sameness of the days became intolerable—the endless climbing of stairs, the changing of awful bandages, the reluctance of both Tom and Adam to face living again. Zoe hated every minute of every day.

For two weeks she kept her silence and did Mammy's bidding. Then, against Mammy's warnings, Zoe took Angela to see her father.

"Dat gent'man ain't gwine wanta see dat li'l baby yet, Miz Zoe. He ain't ready fo' dat," Mammy said, her mouth drawn down in disapproval.

"Don't be silly. It will cheer him up. Goodness, Mammy, it's about time someone around here smiled!"

"Ain't no smile gwine come o' dis," Mammy growled.

Tom's eyes opened in horror when he heard Angela say, "Papa?" Groaning, he put hiis hand over his face, shielding himself from the sight of the child who reminded him of Ullah. "Take her out!"

"Tom, Angela has missed you," Zoe said softly. "Don't

you want to see her? It will make you feel so much better.**

"Get her out of here! Get her out!" He turned his head away.

Adam got up from the chair in the shadowed side of the room. Glaring at his mother, he picked Angela up, holding her whimpering against him. Her arms found their way around his neck, clinging to him. He took her downstairs to Mammy, then returned to Tom.

Zoe, waiting in the hallway, said apologetically, "I thought he would want to see her."

Adam took the seat Zoe normally occupied near Tom*s bed. He seldom sat there, for Tom didn't seem to want to see him any more than he had Angela. Now Tom closed his eyes, his face expressionless.

Awkwardly Adam shifted in his chair, fiddling with his hands. He didn't understand why Tom turned from him, nor did he know what to say when Tom maintained this aloof, hostile silence.

"Angela is all right now. Mammy has her downstairs." When the silence became more than he could bear, he asked, "Can I get something for you, Tom? Are you thirsty?"

There was no reply. Unlike other days when he had made attempts to talk to Tom and given up, Adam persisted until Tom opened his eyes. In them was none of the friendly affection of the past.

"Get out of here, Adam. There is nothin' you can do.'*

Adam smiled tentatively. "How do you feel, Tom?*'

"How do the livin' dead ever feel?"

The smile faded from Adam's face. "But . . . you are much better, Tom. Mammy says you can sit up by the window soon, and then—"

Tom laughed harshly, a sound that could hardly be heard. Neither his voice nor the sounds of his laughter would ever ring clear again. The rope had damaged his vocal cords, leaving him with only a hoarse whisper. 'Then I will be able to walk around, a freak, neither livin' nor dead, not a man, not . . . Christ, Adam! Leave me alone! Stop meddlin' in what doesn't concern you!"

'Tfou concern me, Tom." Adam looked away, embarrassed by his need to reveal his own feeling for this man. "I'm just sorry I couldn't get there sooner. If I'd been quicker you wouldn't—"

"Relieve your mind," Tom hissed. "I wish you hadn't

gotten there at all. I'd have died then, an' it would be all over. Is that clear enough? I-didn't want your heroic rescue, an' I don't want to see you now. Go away, boy."

Tom closed his eyes again, his mouth drawn down and set. For several minutes Adam sat, unable to move or speak. Then, lifelessly, he went downstairs.

Angela ran to him as soon as he entered the kitchen and held fast to his hand. Next to Tom and Ullah, Adam had her heart. Now it was Adam who banished the inexplicable exile she had been living since Beau had taken her from the bayou house. She turned her huge questioning brown eyes to him.

Adam gathered her into his arms. Her father had turned from her; Adam would give to Angela what Tom could not. That night it was xAdam who heard her prayers and kissed her before she went to sleep.

Like all the other things in which Zoe saw the beginnings of hope, she saw it in this and was disappointed. Adam stayed by Angela, delighting her and keeping her occupied, but he did it with the same grim joylessness that he did everything these days.

Soon Zoe was willing to accept anything that might break the morbid spell that cloaked them all. The sound was like music to her ears when on a Sunday afternoon, after an absence of four days, Ben hammered on the front door.

His face was alive with excitement. He grabbed off his hat, saying, "Evenin', Mrs. Tremain. Where's Adam? Boy, have I got news!"

"Good news, I hope. You'll find him in the kitchen.'*

"Thank you, ma'am. Excuse me, I gotta see Adam right away." He skipped past her, tossing his hat on a chair as he went.

Adam looked up with indifference as Ben barged into the room.

"Wait'll I tell you! You're never gonna believe it!"

"Then why bother telling me?"

"Damn! What's the matter with you, Adam? Don't you care about anything?"

"You know what I care about."

"It happens I've got news about that."

Adam turned his chair to face him. "What did you hear?"

"We're having a barbecue. People everywhere. Daddy

invited half the county. A couple of the men there used to know Tom when he lived in New Orleans. Did you know Tom was rich? Hp lived in one of those great big mansions on Clio Street and just left it. Can you imagine that?"

"Is that all?"

"One of the men—Etienne Bordulac—said some man really has it in for Tom. Tom stole Angela from his plantation. This fellow thinks Angela is his slave and wants her back. Now he's hunting for them. Mr. Bordulac said that when Tom took Ullah, he stirred up the other slaves. He wants my daddy to tell him anything he hears. It's a good thing you told me not to say anything. Jeez!"

"Sounds like Bordulac was there in the bayou that day.'*

"No, no, Mr. Bordulac heard it from the other man, the one who owns the plantation. Adam—you're harboring a runaway slave as well as an insurrectionist. They're fighting mad about what Tom did. You know how people feel about giving darkies ideas."

"What was the man's name, the one who owned the plantation?"

"I don't know. I wasn't listening until he mentioned Angela."

"You have to know, Ben. How could you be so stupid?"

"How was I supposed to know it would be important? You know how they all talk. Slaves and war and crops. I think he has a sugar plantation."

"It's a place to start. I can find out about sugar plantations."

"Yeah, yeah, but what about Tom and Angela? You can't keep them here now. They're ready to string Tom up again when they get him. He's going to find out about you. Then what can you do?"

"I'm going to kill him," Adam said quietly.

Ben made a face of impatient disgust. "Aw, come on, Adam, I'm serious. If he comes here and asks about Tom, what're you gonna say?"

"Why should he come here?"

"Bordulac mentioned your ma's name. He's gotten it somewhere."

"He knows my mother?"

"I guess so. But my daddy said Mr. Bordulac must be crazy. Your ma wouldn't have any truck with runaways and insurrectionists. But hush my mouth, Adam, I almost

swallowed my punch glass and all. Both of them are right here."

"How could he know about my mother? Find out more, Ben. See if you can get the man's name."

"Can't. Bordulac left. He was going to some ball they're having tonight."

After Ben left, Adam questioned Zoe endlessly.

"Adam, I am not acquainted with Etienne Bordulac nor with any sugar plantation owner."

"You must be! How else would he know your name?'*

"I'm sure I don't know, dear. You really must stop this haranguing, Adam. I don't like it, and I can't tell you anything. Why is it so important?" She looked at him wide-eyed. "Unless . . . Adam, he isn't one of the men who was at Tom's house?"

"He may be. Ben said he's looking for Tom and Angela."

"How could anyone know they're here?"

Adam rose to leave the room. "I hope he does come here," he said grimly. "I hope he says right out that he wants Tom and Angela. I'm going to kill him right then, where he stands."

Horrified, Zoe faced her son. "God forgive you!"

"God can forgive me when it's over," Adam said coldly.

Zoe slapped him hard across the face. She had never struck him before, but she wasn't sorry. He looked at her in stunned amazement.

"How dare you speak so! Talking of taking a man's life as though it were yours to take! I am ashamed to call you my son, Adam. You have been my heart and my pride since the very moment you were conceived, but today you are my shame and dishonor."

"Ma, listen to me! You don't understand! He—"

"We are not discussing him. I am concerned with you, Adam. You would coldly take a man's life in revenge to ease your own mind?"

"No!" he cried. "It's for Tom!"

"Oh, you are a fool!" Zoe spat the words at him as though he deserved the vilest expressions of her contempt. And she felt good. For the first time since he had come home with Tom in his arms, he was listening to her. "It is your pride, Adam. Do you think I am deaf, that I haven't heard you sobbing in the night or talking in your sleep

about what might have happened if you had been able to run just a little faster to Tom or if you hadn't missed when you shot at the man? Of course you talk! You talk incessantly when you are asleep. I have listened and prayed, waiting for the day you might turn to me with these thoughts that torture you."

"There's nothing you can do. I could have saved Ullah. I could—"

"You did all you could!" Zoe shouted, bringing Mammy to the parlor door. "Go away, Mammy, I am speaking to Adam!" she said in the same wrathful voice she had used on her son.

"Yes'm." Mammy's mouth puckered into a smile. To see Miz Zoe looking up to her tall son, shouting at him, was like watching a wren attack an eagle.

Fiery-eyed, Zoe turned again on Adam. "You! Youl Always what you could do! You're playing the part of the Almighty, Adam Tremain!"

Adam said stonily, "You don't understand." He went as far as the hall before his mother's voice called him back.

"Adam Tremain, where are your manners? When a lady is speaking to you, you do not leave her presence without being excused."

Adam's eyes fell. "I'm sorry. Mother."

In a softer tone she went on, "I understand something you apparently don't, Adam. You're willing to become the same kind of man as the one you want to kill, and you're willing to risk the lives of all the people in this house to accomplish it. It's an arrogant, self-serving man who would do that."

Adam, dismissed, went upstairs to sit by Tom's bed. His mother never would understand, he thought, and he hadn't been able to explain his deep-running feelings to her. This obsession of his wasn't something he could put into words. It was just something that had to be done.

With absolute certainty, Adam knew the day would come when that hated man would appear at the door. It would only be a matter of time before he was face to face with the man who had worn the Boar's-head mask, and then it would be over. On that day, it would end—all the horror and the dreams and the terrible sense of not having done enough.

Chapter Nine

Zoe threw back the draperies, sending shards of brilliance into the room. It was New Year's morning.

"Cheer up, Tom! It's a beautiful day! Not a cloud in the sky. Perhaps that is a sign. Eighteen fifty-three is going to be a trouble-free year. Is that possible?" Folding her hands in childlike anticipation, she sat next to his bed, her eyes eagerly searching his face for agreement.

"Might be a sign that the worst troubles are those never seen," he rasped in his permanently hoarse voice.