The Swan House (26 page)

“Nice hat you got there, darkie. Let me try it on.” That came from a white teenager with an overabundance of muscles.

“That'll be fifty-five cents,” the waiter said, ignoring the insult.

“Did you hear me?” the white boy demanded, getting out of his car. Then he said the “n-word.”

“Gotta keep my hat, mister.”

The white teenager laughed out loud and grabbed the waiter by the collar. “You do what I say, ya hear?” He shoved him hard, causing the frightened boy to fall down, spilling his tray of Cokes. Several other white boys hopped out of their cars and surrounded the hapless waiter, laughing and calling the black boy all kinds of derisive names.

I was already out of the convertible, with Robbie on my heels. “Leave him alone!” I shouted.

The group of boys snickered at my outburst, and one jeered in an effeminate-sounding voice, “Y'all leave him alone! Listen to what the girl's saying!”

I suddenly remembered my episode with Carl at Oakland and felt goose bumps on my arms. The boy who had started the whole thing turned from me and went over to the black waiter, pulled him back up, and started shaking him hard. The waiter's hat now lay in the middle of the parking lot, wet with Coke.

“Put your hat back on now,” the white boy demanded.

As the waiter reached down to get the hat, the white boy punched him hard in the chin. The black boy went reeling, hit the hood of a car, and caught himself. It looked as though he was going to fight back, but he held himself off. The other boys crowded in closer, eyes flashing with excitement.

“Come on, darkie. Stand up for yourself. You 'fraid or something?” one of them taunted.

“Robbie!” I squealed. “Do something!”

And to my great surprise, he did. He walked through the circle of smirking teens and over to the black boy, who was cowering in the middle, eyes turned down, rubbing his chin. Blood was trickling out of his mouth. Robbie picked up the withered hat and handed it to him. Then he gathered up the cups of spilled Coke and handed them to the white teen and said, “That's enough, Ed.” Disgust was on Rob-bie's face, just as it had been when Herbert had spewed out his information on Friday night. “Pay him for the drinks, Ed, and leave him alone.”

Ed's face got all constricted and red. “You stay out of this, Bartholomew. And I'm not paying for my drinks. They're spilled all over the parking lot. I don't call that very good service.” Ed spat on the ground, turned around, and got into his car. “Let's git outta here,” he said to the others, and they sped off.

Robbie fished in his pocket for a dollar bill and handed it to the humiliated waiter.

“Thank ya, sir,” the boy mumbled, his head turned down. “I'll get you your change.”

“Don't worry about it,” Robbie said. “Get back to work before you get into trouble.”

The waiter nodded and scurried off.

That was the first time I saw Robbie's courage and his generous heart, and I would never forget it. We walked back to his car, his hand on my arm in a protective way.

I was shaking.

“Why are people so awful, Robbie? Why do they want to be cruel? Cruel. For absolutely no reason.”

“I think the reason is hate, Mary Swan. Whites hating blacks because it's been bred into them to hate.”

We were in the car now, and try as hard as I could, I could not stop my legs from shaking.

“Mary Swan, are you all right?”

“Let's just say this hasn't been that great of a weekend.” Then I began to cry. It was awkward because Robbie wanted to hug me, I guess, but with the gearshift between us, he just leaned over so that we were touching heads, of all things, and he was holding my shoulders.

“I'm sorry, Mary Swan. I really am sorry,” he kept saying, and occasionally he wiped away a tear that was running down my face with the handkerchief that he'd withdrawn from his pocket. We sat there so long that the same film started playing again. But Robbie didn't pay any attention.

Finally, I dried my tears, and we left the drive-in theater.

“Everywhere I look now, whites are mean to blacks,” I stated in between little sniffs.

“I think it's just that you're seeing it now, Mary Swan. It's always been this way.” He had that pained looked on his face again, as if he was trying to think of something reassuring to say.

“And all these women are after my dad!” I suddenly burst out.

“What?” Robbie looked startled.

So on the way home I told him about lunch at the club, and then we suddenly started giggling about Amanda Hunnicutt's low-cut dress and Jimmy's wide eyes. When we got to my house, he drove to the back carport, parked the car, and turned off the engine. He got out, came around to my side of the car, and opened my door. I think he was determined to walk me to the door this time. “We don't have much luck with our dates, do we? I'm sorry about the skirmish tonight,” he apologized.

I suddenly felt this rush of tenderness and excitement as I watched him by the back porch light. His hair was kind of sticking to his face, all sweaty, and I brushed it back with my hand. “Thanks for doing what you did. It was really brave of you. And really kind.”

“Just what every Boy Scout would do,” he said with a twinkle in his eye.

That made me laugh. “No, I mean it, Robbie. You were great. It's me that ends up being a rotten date every time. First I pick on your friends, then I get drunk out of my mind, and now I practically get into a fight with a bunch of rednecks.”

“You're a swell date, Swan. It's just that a lot of rotten things have happened lately.”

I stood there, not wanting to rush off like the other times. Not wanting to go inside. Not wanting him to leave.

“Well, thanks for a nice evening,” I said stupidly, because while it had been exciting and scary and romantic, it certainly hadn't been “nice.”

And then he leaned forward, holding my right arm gently with his left hand, and he pressed his lips on mine. Just for a second or two. Not nearly long enough. Just barely long enough for my heart to start thumping. And long enough for me to long for more.

“Good night, Mary Swan,” he said softly. I watched him go to the convertible and turn it around and drive down the driveway, waving as he went. I leaned against the column of the back door and sighed.

My first kiss. I walked out into the backyard and leaned against the hickory tree and stood there for a long time. My first kiss. It was something so sacred I didn't even want to share it with Rachel. Not yet, at least.

So going back to school on Monday wasn't nearly as bad as I had expected. Rachel and I had Latin and French and Honors English and PE together. When I told her about the kiss after English class, she dragged me into the bathroom and wanted all the details.

“I told you he was smitten, Swan!” she stated triumphantly.

And that was all that was on my mind for the whole day. The other girls whispered and giggled about the Back-to-School Ball, but it didn't bother me in the least. No one breathed a word about what Herbert had said or my response. And Rachel confirmed the gossip Patty had given me at church: Virginia had indeed broken up with Herbert. I gloated over that fact all day.

When I got back home that afternoon I didn't tell Ella Mae about Robbie, but I did tell her all about the women who had been flirting with Daddy. “You've got to help me protect him from them,” I pleaded in my most dramatic voice.

“Yore daddy don't need no he'p from me, Mary Swan. Un-unn.”

“But, Ella Mae, if you'd been there, you'd have seen how they were trying to seduce him. Daddy's a sitting duck. He's lonely. He's grieving.” I leaned in close. “He's hungry for affection.”

“Mary Swan! You leave all that alone. He's a grown man, he is.”

“I don't care. He's extremely vulnerable right now. If you won't help me, I'll get Jimmy to.” I thought that threat would do it, but Ella Mae just ambled out of the room, admonishing me with “Don't you git me involved in none of your silliness, Mary Swan. I won't have it. I tell you, I won't.”

So I went outside to the backyard where Jimmy was throwing a ball with Muffin.

“What did you think about those women around Daddy yesterday?”

“Disgusting. Especially Amanda Top-Heavy Hunnicutt.”

I squeaked out a laugh. “Shh. Don't let Ella Mae hear you!” I picked up a stick and tossed it as hard as I could toward the woods. Muffin went racing after it. “I've got an idea about how to keep Daddy safe from those women.”

“You do? What is it?”

And that's how Jimmy and I started our campaign called Save JJ from the RASCALS, our acronym for Rich Available Sexy Cunning Admiring Ladies of Society. We planned our strategy, and I made Jimmy rehearse it with me, despite his protests. I knew we had no time to waste. Those women had one thing on their minds: JJ's money. I expected them to appear at the front door at any minute.

True to my instinct, the doorbell rang around six-fifteen. Ella Mae had taken the bus home at five-thirty, and thankfully, Daddy had not gotten home from work.

“It's Helen Goodman!” I wailed to Jimmy, who was making a robot out of bottle tops in his room. I raced down the steps from my room, taking them two at a time.

Helen Goodman looked to me like a model for
Vogue
. She had tanned skin all year long—I don't know how she did it—and big brown eyes so heavy with mascara that it looked like she was perpetually surprised and glad to be. She walked with a deliberate swing to her hips. That day, her hips were nicely concealed in a tightly fitting linen skirt.

“Looks like she's got something yummy on that cake plate,” called Jimmy, who must have gone to the window. “Don't chase her off before she leaves the cake!”

I opened the door. “Oh, hello there, Miss Goodman. So nice to see you.”

“Well, I just had to come by. Seeing JJ—seeing Mr. Middleton yesterday at the club, I felt so relieved that he seems to be doing better. And you children. Such sweet children. So perfectly behaved.” She said it as if we were three and six instead of thirteen and sixteen. “I thought you might like my chocolate marble cake.” Helen Goodman lowered her voice. “I wondered if your father might be here?”

“No, ma'am. He's not home from work yet. Working late today, I think.”

That was Jimmy's cue. He ran down the steps, making a great commotion. “Hello, Miss Goodman. Oh, gosh, that cake looks delicious!” Then he turned to me, and with his eyes wide and innocent, said, “Mary Swan, don't you remember?” He turned toward Miss Goodman with her plastic smile and eyes stuck open. “Daddy's not at work. He left early because Jennifer Peabody invited him to that tour of homes, and then he's going with her to look at flowers.”

Helen Goodman's surprised eyes now became astonished and flustered, so Jimmy added, “Women are coming around all the time. Especially Miss Peabody.”

Miss Goodman's tanned face turned two shades deeper as she stammered, “Well, well, my goodness,” handed me the cake plate, and turned and left without so much as a good-bye.

The next afternoon Jimmy burst into my room where I was practicing my flute and confided to me, “Guess who's eating dinner with us at the club tonight?”

I put down my flute and demanded, “Who?”

He smiled again.

“Not Helen Goodman, I hope.”

“Worse.”

“Well, who?”

“Amanda Top-Heavy Hunnicutt!”

“No!”

“Come see for yourself.”

We sneaked down the two floors of stairs and peered from the entrance hall into the living room. I could barely see Daddy's polished black shoes. But we heard the laugh. It was Miss Hunnicutt's all right.

“JJ, you don't me-ean it!” she squealed, adding one or two extra syllables to every word.

Daddy was laughing nervously, and I could imagine the well-endowed Miss Hunnicutt scooting closer to him on the sofa.

“Daddy told me just before she got here that she was coming by for drinks and then we were all eating together at the club,” Jimmy whispered way too loudly.

“Oh no!” I groaned. I yanked him into the kitchen. “We can't let her come.” My melodramatic pitch came naturally. “We've got to do something quick!”

So Jimmy went upstairs and got his pre-algebra book and rather rudely walked into the living room. Without so much as a hello, he whined, “Daddy, can you please help me with these math problems?”

Listening in the hall, I could hear the irritation in Daddy's voice. “For goodness' sake, Jimmy, ask Swan.”

When Jimmy left the room, we waited precisely five minutes before I traipsed in. “Hello, Miss Hunnicutt,” I said, polite as could be. “Dad, I'm starving. Can I have a piece of that heavenly chocolate cake that Helen Goodman brought over yesterday?”

Daddy furrowed his brow. “Well, really, Swan. What do you mean. . . ?”

“Well, I just thought I should check, in case you were saving the last four pieces for us to eat when she comes by again.”

Miss Hunnicutt gave me an annoyed look and then daintily lifted her glass of Scotch and soda to her lips.

Daddy examined his wristwatch. “Swan, you don't need a piece of cake now. We'll be leaving for the club in fifteen minutes. Our reservations are for seven.”

“Oh, JJ, for goodness' sakes, she's practically grown. Let her have a piece of cake.”

I'd barely left the room when Jimmy dashed in again, freckled face red and tears in his eyes. “Dad, come quick! Muffin's gotten out. Went chasing a dog down the road.”

Daddy swore under his breath. “Excuse me for a second, Amanda.” He set down his glass, muttering unkind words about Muffin, and strode out the front door. Jimmy ran after him, winking at me as he went.

When Daddy came back ten minutes later, he was puffing and sweating in his business suit. “Amanda, I am sorry. The dog's gone.”