The Swan House (60 page)

“An' then she'd be all better, she would. An' she told me how she thought every church should be like that. A place where you could go without no makeup or fancy dress to hide behind and you could jus' hug yore friends and cry and tell the Lawd how bad you'd messed up and ask Him to forgive ya and let ya git up and keep goin'.

“And I do believe that's the kind o' church Jesus had in mind when He spoke ta us, Mary Swan. I do. Place where ya feels comfortable jus' like you is. Place where we gives each other a lotta grace, jus' like our Savior done give us.”

Then Ella Mae got this serious look on her face and said, “She knew you had some of that wonder in you. She cried and laughed about it. And worried. You be shore ta remember, Swannee, that no matter what, life is a gift, a wonderful gift from the Lawd. Everything about it. The good and the bad and the borin' and sad. All of it is a gift, and don't you waste it now, Swannee. Please don't waste it, chile.”

“I won't, Ella Mae. I promise you,” I murmured. I thought surely Ella Mae would fall asleep, but she still had things to say.

“Lawd, He done knowed I'd need Miz Sheila and Mista Middleton and you and Jimmy in my life. He done brought yore mama in my life right before I done lost my baby, chile.”

I jerked my head up. “Gina? I saw her pictures.”

“That's right. Still got me my Loretta, thank the Lawd. But I done lost my Gina. She was jus' a young girl, 'bout yore age, smart and beautiful and with a voice like an angel. Got hit by a car right ova' by the church. Comin' home from school late one afta'noon in winta'. Kinda dark outside. Man was already drunk outta his mind. He neva' even saw my Gina. . . .”

I fell onto the bed, clasping her hand again. “Ella Mae, why didn't I ever know it? Why didn't I ever know any of it? I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry I never asked, I never cared. I was so selfish.” I was sobbing into her sheets. “Ella Mae, please forgive me for being so selfish.”

“Hush now, chile. Ain't tryin' ta make ya cry. Wadn't no reason ta tell you. Yore mama knew, though. She come ova' and cry with me. Bought a mighty fine casket for Gina, she did. That was the first thing she done for me, afta' I'd only bin workin' for her for a few months. Bought a casket and paid for a nice funeral and had her buried at a cemetery not too far from here. And then the Lawd done give me you and yore brotha' ta take up my time. And you done brought me a heap o' happiness, that's for shore.”

“Oh, Ella Mae. I wish I could change it all. I want to make your life easier.”

“Ain't askin' for an easy life, Mary Swan. Don't guess there's any time much that I r'memba' where me havin' an easy time of it has he'ped anyone, chile. I cain't 'member a one, honey. Like I'd done already told ya when I was in the hospital, it's been through the hard times that I been able to he'p someone else. It's been through believin' that the Lawd somehow gonna git me through that the others done wanted to hear about my Jesus. He ain't never used no polished perty words to draw them ta Him. Ain't neva' been nothin' I kin brag about myse'f, honey. I guess the only times I could really he'p was 'cause I knowed what God had done for me when I couldn't do nothing myse'f.”

You're right, Ella Mae. Even now, in your suffering, you're helping me,
reminding me of what is important, showing me what Mama was like, telling
me loud and clear that three paintings are needed a lot more in a poor
maid's house on the south side of town than at a fancy exhibition in a museum.
I don't need the recognition at Wellington for being a successful
Raven
.

“You's had some hard things happen in yore life, Mary Swan. And you's learnin' some hard lessons. But don't you stew over those things. Give 'em back to Him and let Him make somethin' beautiful out of them. I guarantee He will. But it won't be nothin' to make you proud of yourself. It'll be some way where you'll jus' praise Him for what He's done. Now that you done asked Him ta take ova' in yore life, and you got the Holy Ghost in ya, well, ya be listenin' ta Him, honey.”

I nodded, feeling all of the pain and the hurt of the past months and wondering about the way God's timing worked. And I felt something else, something like what I'd felt on my knees in the sanctuary of Mt. Carmel. Something pure and simple. I think it was what Miss Abigail called “the peace that passes understanding.” Could it be that the terrible tragedy of Mama's death and the emptiness it left—that wrenching pain—and my desire to paint, and my challenge as the Raven and my friendship with Carl and every other circumstance in the past year were like pieces in a puzzle that God was putting together, slowly and patiently? Maybe life really did matter, and maybe, just maybe, God wasn't going to waste all of the pain.

“I don't know why you don't hate me, Ella Mae,” I said softly, resting my head in her lap as she slowly stroked my hair. “Seeing how selfish I've always been. Selfish and rich and spoiled. I don't know why you don't just hate me. Aren't you ever jealous?”

“Been jealous before of what folks have. Shore. Ain't been jealous of them, tho'. I gots my own people to love, my family, and yore family and my problems and yours, and that's enough. Guess I ain't got no business tellin' the good Lawd that He put me in the wrong place. He done shown me 'nuff times that He knows exactly what He is doing, and I better jus' agree. 'Cause one way or anuther, He'll show He's right and git me there anyway.”

All a sudden, I knew I needed to say something to Ella Mae that I'd never said before. “Thank you for bringing me down to Mt. Carmel, Ella Mae. It's changed me. Changed my life.”

“Glad it's he'ped ya. Mighty glad.”

“I love you, Ella Mae.”

“Aw, go on, Mary Swan. I knows it. I love you too.”

And we just sat there together, my arms entwined around shriveled-up Ella Mae with her golden heart, and I don't know if she was crying, but I was sobbing like a baby.

Chapter 28

O
n the night of Mardi Gras, Rachel came to my house early to help me with my makeup. She insisted that I wear mascara, eyeliner, rouge, and lipstick. “You'll be in the spotlight, Swan. You need it. I promise you won't look overdone.”

So I let her fix me up. My braces had come off two weeks earlier, and last week I'd gone with Rachel to her fancy hairdresser and gotten my hair cut just above the shoulder, even though both Robbie and Daddy had told me they liked it long.

“They'll like it short when they see it,” Rachel had insisted, and as usual, she was right.

She fiddled with it now, curling it on the ends. “Gosh, Swan. Your hair is a great length. Getting it cut gave it just the right amount of body. And it's got the greatest shine.” She peered closer. “Even some red highlights there. Natural highlights, like your mom's. No matter if they hose you down up there, your hair won't wilt,” she added, satisfied, after emptying half a can of hairspray onto my head. “Now you're ready for the dress! Hurry up! Put it on.”

Rachel had helped me pick it out. It was a simple, strapless white dress. It had a built-in bra so that I didn't look flat-chested at all, and I almost had to hold my breath to get it zipped, so there was no chance of it falling off. It was perfectly plain, a winter white, shimmering satin. The top had a wide pleat across the bust. The dress fell to my ankles, and I had on gold sandals. And around my shoulders I wore a short black velvet cape, tied at the neck.

When Rachel had seen the dress and cape at Rich's ten days ago, she'd exclaimed delightedly, “This is it, Swan. This is it
exactly
. It's the perfect combination of the graceful swan and the black raven.”

“Wellington's unsuccessful Raven,” I had added.

“No. Not at all, Swan. You did your absolute best and found out everything you possibly could. The judges have the last word. They may decide that you did indeed solve the Dare.”

I nibbled on a fingernail. “Yeah, who knows?”

Remembering that conversation now, I shivered slightly. If only Rachel knew what I'd discovered at Ella Mae's since then. . . . But I wouldn't tell. Not even Rachel.

She twirled me around and proclaimed, “You'll charm your escort. That's for sure.”

That was another tradition of the Raven Dare. At Mardi Gras, the Raven was presented with her “secret” escort, chosen from one of the boys' private schools. Rumors had slipped out that I'd be escorted by Christopher Allen, who was knock-you-down handsome, six foot two, captain of the All-Star basketball team, and every girl's heartthrob. That didn't do anything to calm my nerves either.

“You look absolutely gorgeous,” Rachel prattled on. “That dress shows off your terrific figure.”

I blushed a little, shrugged, and corrected her.
“You're
the one who's gorgeous.”

Rachel did look stunning in her red taffeta dress that was fitted around the bodice and then poofed out at the waist with a skirt full of crinolines that fairly danced to her shins. She wore a small tiara on her head. Her blond hair fell thick and shining down her back.

“But I'm all right, I guess. Yeah. I look okay.” The truth was that I liked what I saw staring back at me from the full-length mirror in my dressing room. I liked it a lot.

Rachel drove us to the Wellington gymnasium, which sat on spacious acreage far behind the other buildings. For this one night the basketball court was transformed into a stage, and the bleachers would soon be filled with Wellington students, their parents, and friends. I glanced at my watch. One hour until the festivities began. One hour, and where were Carl and the rest of the band? They were to play for fifteen minutes before the official ceremony began and then again at the end of the evening, with several songs interspersed while the audience and the girls awaited the judges' decision on the float and skits.

The four different floats were hidden under sheets in the corners of the gym. Rachel and I lifted the sheet off the junior float and inspected it—a gondola, sitting on a piece of plywood that had been painted blue and made to look like a river. A bridge rose in a wide semicircle above the gondola. “Wow. It looks great,” I whispered to Rachel. “They've done a lot of work since Wednesday when I saw it last.”

“Are you kidding? Griff and Patty and Jane were up practically all night getting it into shape.”

“Have you sat in the gondola yet?”

“Yeah, I came by this morning and tried out my perch. I think it will hold me.” She flashed her eyes. “Wouldn't it be hysterical if the whole thing fell apart right in front of the audience?”

“Don't be stupid. It looks solid enough.” But I knew Rachel was thinking of the disaster three years ago when a huge crepe paper chicken had toppled over onto the girl who was riding the freshman float. “You'll be fine.”

My own heart was bouncing in several different directions. First, the skit still had a few rough spots we were desperately trying to iron out, and there was a general feeling of happy panic in the air. As writer and narrator, I was more or less in charge, so I found myself dashing here and there to reassure the star-struck cast. And then the little speech I had prepared, as every Raven must, was growing soggy in my hands, just like that piece of paper had done nine months ago in Latin class. That soggy wad of paper had changed my life. And finally, where in the world were Carl and Leo and Big Man and Larry and Nickie?

I unfolded the paper where I'd scribbled my Raven speech. I wondered, with butterflies flitting inside my stomach, if what I was going to say was appropriate. I felt terrified and excited, as if there was something new about me, something good and right. Mary Swan after the crash, Mary Swan the believer, Mary Swan thinking of someone else. And Mary Swan willing to let go. Still I doubted my decision tonight when I thought about Daddy and Jimmy sitting in the bleachers, hearing that I had been the Raven. I had so wanted to have those three paintings here to show. For Daddy. For Mama.

But Ella Mae, weak, struggling Ella Mae, was lying in her bedroom, able to open her eyes at any time and see Mama's work. Her Sheila's work. That was exactly as it should be. Ella Mae and Sheila. They had lived a tight relationship of trust and love. They had pulled each other through attempted suicide and the death of a child. They had been survivors. And they had been conspirators—together keeping Mama's paintings a secret. Who was I to destroy that?

I checked my watch again. The competition started in thirty minutes. First the skits, beginning with the freshmen, then the sophomores, then us, followed by the seniors. Afterward the floats would be pulled in one at a time in the same order. And while the judges were making their decisions and tallying the points, the Raven Dare would be revealed and the Raven presented. It was going to be a long night.

The band arrived, Carl looked more harried and out of breath than I'd ever seen him before.

“What's the matter? Are you okay?” I asked, relieved by their presence and trying not to sound irritated at their tardy arrival.

“Everythin's fine, Swannee. Don't you worry.” He flashed me a smile, but it wasn't very convincing.

“I've got to go out there later and talk about the Dare, Carl.”

“You'll do fine. You jus' go out there and tell the truth. The truth is all. Remember.”

I nodded, my head spinning.
But you don't understand, Carl. You
don't know that I really did find those paintings. And I am not going to peep
a word
.

“Pray that I say the right things, Carl. I'm scared stiff. I'm terrified.”

He looked at me slowly as he pulled his saxophone from its case, gave me a wide smile, and said, “You know, girl, I b'lieve you are.” He put one hand on my shoulder and looked me straight in the eye. I'm sure Patty and Jane saw him do it, because they'd just run over to ask me a question. Carl didn't flinch. “You'll be just fine. Do it for your mama's memory. You'll be fine.”