The Unwelcomed Child Read online

  I had forgotten to consider what the sun could do. I was red everywhere except where the skimpy bathing suit had covered my body. If she walked in and looked at me, which was something she often did, I would have no way to explain it. I couldn’t tell her I had taken off my clothes to lie in the sun in my bra and panties. Besides, she knew how big my panties were. They were gigantic compared with the bottoms of Claudine’s bikini.

  I had never showered and dried myself so quickly, my heart pounding the whole time. As soon as I could, I dressed. Luckily, Grandmother Myra had gone upstairs to fix her hair and put on a different dress. By the time she came down, I was out, and the bathing suit was hidden under my other undergarments in my dresser drawer. I actually felt exhausted, not only from the effort but also from the tension.

  She came in to look at me. “You’ve had more sun than you should on your face, neck, and arms, young lady. You should have the sense to locate yourself in a shady area out there.”

  “I know, Grandmother. I forgot because I was so into my drawing and painting. I will be much more careful tomorrow.”

  “Um,” she said. “I’m not sure it’s good for you to spend so much time alone in the forest and by the lake. We couldn’t help you if you needed help, if someone nasty suddenly appeared.”

  “Oh, there’s no one in this area yet. It’s just me and the deer and the birds and rabbits,” I said. “I saw a fox, I think. It’s truly awe-inspiring out there. You can feel more spiritual. I read that in one of the Bible stories you gave me.”

  “Hmm. Let me see what you’ve done,” she said, nodding at my pad.

  I opened it quickly to the lake scene. “I have much more to do before it’s a finished picture, Grandmother.”

  She studied it. “That cloud you drew and painted . . .”

  “Yes?”

  “It looks almost like the face of Jesus,” she said in a softer tone of voice, surprise in her face. “Did you do that deliberately?”

  “No,” I said.

  She seemed to like that answer. She called for my grandfather.

  “Now what?” he asked.

  “Look at that picture she’s painting. Tell me what you see,” she said.

  He drew closer to the picture. “It’s a beautiful scene at the lake. I like the colors you’re choosing, Elle. You going to put some birds in it?”

  “Yes. I saw a wonderful flock of ducks today,” I said.

  “Well, it’s a very good initial attempt at capturing nature,” he said.

  “That’s not it,” Grandmother Myra said impatiently. “Look at those clouds. One especially should remind you of something, Prescott Edwards.”

  He looked, glanced at me, and shook his head. “I’m not sure.”

  “Well, you should be sure. She’s drawn the face of Jesus. Can’t you see it?”

  “Oh . . . yes, yes, I see what you mean. That’s very clever of you, Elle.”

  “She said she didn’t do it deliberately. It just came out of her.”

  “Really?” He studied the picture. “That’s amazing.”

  “It’s more than amazing. Don’t you know what that means?”

  “Oh, right,” he said, and then asked, “What do you think it means, Myra?”

  “Prescott Edwards, sometimes I think you’re as dim as a dying lightbulb. Obviously, it means we’ve done a good job. There is grace in her now. I hope it continues.”

  Grandfather Prescott looked at me, truly surprised and full of admiration. “Well, yes, I see what you mean, Myra. And don’t forget,” he added, “she’s done this after she met her mother.”

  “I won’t forget that,” Grandmother Myra said. “I won’t forget any of it. Well, let’s get started. I don’t like eating late in these places. The food is probably warmed over too much.”

  My grandfather winked at me, and the three of us started out. I glanced back at my picture. If there was any resemblance to the pictures of Jesus we had on the walls, I couldn’t see it, not even vaguely. I didn’t think Grandfather Prescott really saw it, either. I guess we all see what we want to see, I thought, but I was grateful that was what she had seen.

  Her vision of the cloud not only made her calmer, but it also made her surprisingly joyful. Her whole mood seemed to have undergone a facelift. When Grandfather Prescott talked about how often they used to go out to eat, she laughed. Whenever she laughed, it helped me feel more hopeful. Maybe with all the time that had passed and all that we’d been through, she was the one moving into the light and out of the darkness, not me.

  “Your grandfather wasn’t so keen on my cooking back in those days.”

  “Now, Myra . . .”

  “Don’t try to sugar-coat it, Prescott Edwards. You were too nice to be critical, or maybe too afraid.”

  “‘Afraid’ sounds more truthful,” he said. She surprised me again by laughing.

  “He knew I’d take a frying pan to him if he said something nasty after I had worked so hard.”

  “No question she would have, and nearly did a few times.”

  “Your taste was spoiled with all that eating out before we were married,” she said. “A bachelor is another human species, missy. Don’t you forget that.”

  “If she remembers all the things you’ve told her she has to remember, her head will explode.”

  “Never you mind. What I’m telling you is important to get along in this world,” she said, turning to me. “Wisdom is different from book knowledge, and the only way to get wisdom is to listen to those who are older.”

  I nodded, and she stared at me so hard I thought maybe I shouldn’t have. Maybe she thought I was just agreeing with her to get along with her. She always used to suspect me of that. She surprised me again, however.

  “I’m glad you had enough sense to keep your hair pinned up, Elle. As I told you, you have to be careful out in the sun, but I admit you have just enough now to look prettier. Maybe too pretty.”

  “Oh, you can’t be too pretty,” my grandfather told her.

  “Don’t tell me what you can and can’t be. Lucifer was the prettiest angel in heaven.”

  “God made him that way.”

  “Yes, but for a reason,” she replied. “Men don’t sin so easily with ugly women, and women don’t sin easily with ugly men. You keep that in mind, Elle.”

  “Another thing to store. There’ll be no room for her schoolwork,” Grandfather Prescott kidded.

  “There’ll be room,” she said. “There’ll be room.”

  We rode on. Maybe I was wrong to feel it so strongly, but it seemed that something was really changing, for the better. For the first time, I had the feeling that I was really and truly their granddaughter and not some child of the darkness who was born in their house and made to be the biggest burden of their lives, another test God had created. Very rarely during my growing up did I feel I was part of a family. Could that happen? Could my grandmother soften enough to express any love for me? If this mood she was in continued, that might happen, I thought.

  It carried over into the restaurant. Grandmother Myra didn’t complain about the prices and the food as much, and when some old friends stopped by our table, friends they knew from when they had their mattress business, she was friendlier, even when someone referred to me with admiration.

  Of course, by now, everyone in the community who knew us and knew I was their granddaughter knew at least vaguely what had happened to my mother. Through the years, I understood that some of their acquaintances admired them for the responsibility they undertook, but some did not. I often heard about them. According to my grandmother, there were many who said they could never do it, no matter what they were told about an obligation or a responsibility. The child of a rape had the mark of Cain on his or her face. Every good deed, every show of respect for prayer or God, was connived, a manipulation.

  Whenever we did meet someone in the community, I searched his or her face to see which group he or she belonged to, the admirers or the condemners, those who saw me as a
pretty young girl or those who saw me as the evil child, so evil they’d sleep with their bedroom doors locked.

  “How big she’s grown,” Mrs. Frampton said. “Are you in college yet, dear?”

  “No, ma’am. I’m going into eleventh grade,” I said.

  “They look so much older these days, don’t they, Myra?”

  “Yes. Don’t know whether that’s good or bad,” she said. I expected her to state clearly that it wasn’t an advantage to look older, as she always did, but she just smiled.

  “Oh, I’m sure it’s good for you to have a pretty young granddaughter.”

  “And why do you say that?” Grandmother Myra asked her.

  Mrs. Frampton looked shocked at the questions. “Well . . . it’s better than having a goose,” she replied, and laughed. “Good to see you, Myra,” she added, and left us.

  “Town gossip,” Grandmother Myra muttered. “Just looking to see how we were getting along.”

  “We’re getting along just fine,” Grandfather Prescott said.

  Grandmother Myra watched Mrs. Frampton talking to some other women. They all looked our way.

  “Busybodies,” she said.

  Later, when we were home and Grandmother Myra went up to her bathroom, Grandfather Prescott told me he was just as surprised as I was at my grandmother’s approving our going out to dinner.

  “I thought after Deborah, we’d have a hard time with her, but you made her feel very good about it, Elle. She and I talked about how well you handled it all. You said and did the right things. We’re both proud of you. Truth is, this was a little bit of a celebration tonight.”

  I didn’t think of it that way but didn’t say so. I smiled. I didn’t want to think of my disappointment with my mother as a reason to celebrate, but I knew what I had to do. Was I becoming as much of a conniver as my mother, the conniver those who rejected me suspected I would become? When do you know you’re not doing the right thing for the right reasons? Couldn’t you lie to make someone happier and make life easier for everyone, or was it always a sin?

  In any case, this was one of the happiest times we had had together. When my grandmother came down, she told us that unlike last time, she didn’t get a stomachache from the food.

  “We just caught them at the right time,” she decided. “I’m sure the food isn’t always as fresh. You behaved very well, Elle.”

  “See why it’s important now that she get out more?” Grandfather Prescott said. “She’s ready.”

  “I hope she’s ready. I’m hoping you’ll carry the good things we’ve taught you into school when you begin.”

  “I will, Grandmother. I’ve been thinking a lot about it. I was wondering if maybe I shouldn’t walk there one day just so I can get a good idea of how long it takes. I’d walk there and walk right back.”

  “That is a good idea, Myra.”

  “Um,” she muttered. “Maybe we should all do that.”

  “I think she should go herself. The girl’s got to know how to deal with traffic and such on her own. You can’t hold her hand all the time.”

  She thought. “Maybe.”

  “I could drive her back and forth tomorrow morning to show her the best route, and then either in the afternoon or the next day, she can try it.”

  “I’d like that,” I said. “I admit I’m nervous about it.”

  “Nonsense. There’s nothing to be nervous about as long as you keep your mind on what you’re doing. Okay,” she said. “You show her the route in the morning. I’m going to go to bed. I’m feeling more tired than usual,” she added, rising and suddenly looking her age.

  “Are you all right, Grandmother?” I asked.

  “I’ll be fine,” she said. “Just need a good night’s rest. We all need that.”

  “I need to do some reading first,” I said, rising, too.

  “Okay, you two can desert me. I’m going to watch a little television. Elle, we’ll go after breakfast.”

  “After cleanup,” Grandmother Myra reminded him.

  “After cleanup.”

  I left quickly, pleased with what I had gotten and afraid that if more was said, it would be retracted.

  Before I went to sleep, I went out to get a glass of milk. Grandfather Prescott had already gone upstairs. Except for the kitchen, the house was dark and quiet. Just after I poured my glass of milk and turned off the lights, I gazed out the back window. The moon was not quite full, but it was so bright it lit up the forest. I wondered where the doe was and when she slept. Just as I was about to turn away, something caught my eye. It looked like a shadow had come to life just down to my left. When it moved into more moonlight, I realized it was Mason. What was he doing out there now? He paused, looked back at our house, and then disappeared into the woods.

  He had been looking into our windows, I thought. Why?

  I waited to see if he would reappear, but he was gone. Seeing him like that troubled me. What if Grandfather Prescott or my grandmother had caught him peering into our windows? I lay in bed thinking about it for a long time before finally falling asleep. For the first time in a long time, I overslept. I woke when I realized that Grandmother Myra was standing beside the bed looking down at me.

  “You must have stayed up too late reading,” she said. “I don’t want you reading so much at night.”

  “Okay.”

  “Your grandfather is anxious to take you for that ride. I don’t know why it’s so important that it be done now. There’s still more than six weeks before school begins.”

  I nodded but didn’t move. I hoped she wouldn’t remain in the room while I dressed. She’d see my sunburn for sure.

  “Well, get your morning started,” she said. “I want you to do some shopping for me, too, after your grandfather shows you the route to school. I have some of my old aches and pains this morning and need to rest.”

  “Okay, Grandmother.”

  “I’ll make up a list.”

  I nodded. It probably was the dumbest thing for a girl my age to get excited about, but this was the first time I was ever going to do it.

  “Your grandfather never pays attention to where things are in the supermarket, but I’m sure you’ll find it all. You mind that you don’t talk to any strangers,” she added, and turned to leave.

  Before she could turn around again, I scurried out of bed and quickly began to change into my clothes. Then I hurried into the bathroom to wash my face and hands and went to the kitchen to help her prepare breakfast. Grandfather Prescott was already sitting at the table. She was right. He was looking forward to taking me on the ride. It would be another first, the first time we were in the car without my grandmother. I never expected what that would mean, what I would learn.

  15

  “Your grandmother is worrying me a little these days,” Grandfather Prescott said, once we drove out of the driveway and started for the school.

  “What do you mean, Grandfather?”

  “Oh, little things you might not notice. She’s becoming more forgetful.” He looked at me and lowered his head. “Just between us, I think that’s why she wanted you to start doing the shopping. Anyway, watch the street so you know how to go. We’re turning here. We’ll go about a half mile and turn left. The school’s not much farther once we do that,” he said.

  I looked out the window, mentally checking off the stores and places I’d like to stop by. Our town had a small park, too. It was on the left, and right now, there were mothers pushing strollers and talking to their friends. Children of all ages were following along or playing on the grass. In the center was a circular pond with a fountain shaped like a big fish, the water pouring out of its mouth sparkling in the sunlight raining out of a clear blue sky. Everyone seemed to have more energy, more excitement, and brighter smiles. I envisioned myself sitting there after school and just enjoying the rest of the day, seeing and talking to other people.

  “She’s a lot more tired lately, too,” Grandfather Prescott said, almost as an afterthought. “I tol
d her it was time for a checkup, but she’s about the most stubborn woman on earth.”

  “I’ll tell her, too,” I said, not that I thought that would make an iota of difference.

  “Here it is,” Grandfather Prescott said, and pulled to the curb in front of the Lake Hurley public high school. He nodded at it. “It’s the same as it was when your mother was attending. You’ll probably have some of the same teachers.”

  The school was an old-fashioned redbrick building, with panel windows, a wide cement stairway to the double front doors, and a ball field visible on the right. It had a long front lawn, with old maple and hickory trees very neatly spaced. Two girls who looked about my age were sitting on the lawn and chatting. How I wished I had super hearing and could listen in.

  “Not really much of a walk to get here,” Grandfather Prescott said.

  “No, it isn’t.”

  “Well, let’s hope this is the start of a happier time for you,” he added, then looked in his side-view mirror and started away. He turned into a driveway, backed up, and took us to the supermarket.

  “Got the list?” he asked after we parked.

  “Right here,” I said, holding it up.

  “When your mother was a little girl, much younger than you are now,” he told me as we started toward the store, “she would love to go along with me to pick up something here and there. She didn’t like going for the regular weekly shopping. Even then, she didn’t have much patience, especially when she was with your grandmother telling her to straighten up, not pick up dirty things, or stop staring at people.”

  He got us a cart, and we went right to filling the list. A few times, I lost him because he lingered over something. When I made a turn after the cereal aisle, I nearly bumped into Mason and Claudine’s mother. She wore a white and pink tennis outfit with white tennis shoes and had her hair pinned back in a ponytail. She wasn’t heavily made-up, but her cheeks were rosy. Her wet, slightly orange lipstick looked very nice. In fact, despite what I was told about her mourning new wrinkles, I thought she looked very young.