The Umbrella Lady Read online

  I made my way across the room to my desk and set my backpack beside me. The boy next to me glanced at me and then turned away. No one moved; no one said a word to anyone. Mrs. Garson sat behind her desk and looked up at the ceiling. I could feel the funeral atmosphere thickening. The warning bell rang, and the students from my homeroom who were in the hallway rushed in. Everyone was quite subdued. Some looked at me, and some, when they did, quickly turned away, as if my looking back might burn them. Mrs. Garson stood at her podium and began to take attendance. When my name was called, most turned to me. Almost all had said, “Here,” but I said, “Present.” It was how Mazy had taught me to respond.

  Mrs. Garson sat and stared at the ceiling again, her hands lying on her small bosom. We heard the PA system buzz, and then the principal, Mr. Blumberg, began by saying, “This is Mr. Blumberg.” At least half the homeroom immediately lowered their heads, anticipating the words, “We will begin with a silent prayer for Donald Nickels.”

  Surely it wasn’t that long ago when all these students were lowering their heads for Lucy Wiley, I thought. This wasn’t any less sad, but I couldn’t help thinking how much sadder it was for me first to have known Lucy and then to have had only a mean-spirited contact with Donald. I wanted to feel more terrible, more like the others were obviously feeling. Trudy’s phone call made it more uncomfortable for me, but it was clearly very disturbing for everyone in the school, some looking absolutely terrified.

  Mr. Blumberg talked about counselors being available for anyone who needed to talk. They were told to go to the guidance counselors’ office. I wished that Mazy had decided to enroll me three or so days later, maybe even the following week. But I also believed that Stuart Wiley would have caused trouble for me no matter when I had entered the public school.

  The bell rang, and I reached for my bag and left homeroom to head for my English class. No one said a word to me as we all left. Most who spoke kept their voices low. They moved ahead of and around me quickly, as if they were afraid to touch me. I wondered if I would confront my three short-lived friends before I entered the classroom. Were they waiting to ambush me with accusations and threats and their predictions of disaster? I surprised myself by suddenly laughing, maybe to ease the tension I was feeling. They had become something else in my mind, thanks to the Shakespearean reading list Mazy had set out for me this year; maybe they were churning up frogs in a cauldron.

  “ ‘Fair is foul and foul is fair,’ ” I whispered. I turned the corner. Would I find the three witches from Macbeth waiting for me?

  It was worse. Stuart and another boy I had not yet met were standing with the three of them near the entrance to the English classroom. They all turned to watch me approach. None of the three girls smiled at me. They looked shocked that I was smiling, but the little joke I had told myself had given me more courage.

  I didn’t look away. I headed directly at them.

  The girls did take a step back, but Stuart stepped forward. He had his arms folded across his chest, trying to look immovable.

  He’s showing off, I thought.

  “What, no rocks?” I said. For a moment, my aggressiveness did shock him.

  “You’d better not curse us,” Karla said.

  “Stop that. It’s stupid. For someone in an honors class, especially,” I added. I knew Mazy wanted me to avoid any conflicts, but they weren’t going to make me cower, not now, not ever.

  She stepped back again. I thought that would end it. I’d get through the day, and just as Mazy predicted, they would all get bored with it. Eventually, I’d find new friends.

  But Stuart continued to come toward me. That seemed to give the others new courage. They stayed close to each other. Moving in a clump obviously helped them feel safer. Despite the lies Stuart was telling about me, it was still difficult to imagine that anyone would believe I was really dangerous.

  “We heard the truth about you,” he said. He looked so self-satisfied that it made me feel a little sick to my stomach.

  I paused and looked at them, not flinching. Missy quickly looked down, but Trudy and Karla stared at me so hard that they would surely have gone through a steel wall if they could send daggers out of their eyes.

  “And what did you hear, rock man? That I could turn you into a toad by touching you with a branch? Maybe I have a leaf in my pocket.”

  I was hoping to embarrass him and not vice versa. He would certainly not look like he was courageous if they knew how afraid of me he was.

  His face did redden.

  But Karla poked him. “Tell her,” she ordered.

  “Right,” he said, and widened his smile again. “The elementary school principal’s secretary is a gossip, especially since her boss retired and she doesn’t have to worry about keeping secrets,” he said mysteriously. He folded his arms again, pulled back his shoulders, and broadened his smile. The other boys were smiling, too.

  “What secrets?”

  He looked at the others and then at me. “The secrets your grandmother told.”

  “There aren’t any secrets,” I said, unable to keep my voice from sounding a bit shaky. “You’re making something up.”

  “No, I’m not. Your parents died in a house fire. You set it, accidentally or not, and went a little nuts. That’s why you’re so weird. That’s why your grandmother had to keep you practically locked away until now. She was told you were dangerous to yourself and others. She couldn’t let you out with other kids until you passed some psychiatric exam.”

  He looked at Karla to be sure he had said it right. I saw her nod.

  I didn’t move. Students rushed around us. I wanted to lunge at him and rip the smile off his face.

  “Stay away from us,” Karla said. “I thought you were weird yesterday, and I still think it.”

  The warning bell rang.

  “Let’s go in,” Trudy said. “We don’t want to get detention because of her.”

  “Maybe she’ll set her house on fire and burn up her grandmother, too,” Stuart said.

  His friends laughed as they started moving down the hall.

  The three witches of Macbeth went into the classroom, but I couldn’t move. The halls emptied and grew quiet. Visions of flames and the crackling sound of wood crumbling crossed my mind. I really couldn’t move. Someone closed the door. A moment later, Mr. Madeo looked out at me and then came out, closing the door behind him.

  “What is it, Saffron?” he asked. “Why don’t you come into the classroom?”

  “It’s on fire,” I said.

  “What?”

  “You had better get everyone out.”

  He just stared at me. I shook my head and then turned and ran all the way to the exit. I didn’t stop running after I burst out, either. I ran and ran…

  But I didn’t run to Mazy’s house. I turned and ran up the small hill to the railroad station. A train had just left. People who had arrived were walking quickly toward the village. I stopped to wait for them to go by, and then I walked slowly to the bench I had sat on years ago. It hadn’t been moved or changed. Before I sat, I slipped off my backpack and put it beside the bench and just stared ahead.

  Somewhere in the back of my mind, rising like a bubble from the deepest place, the thought emerged, and I recited it.

  “Daddy’s coming back for me for sure now. I’ll just wait.”

  I don’t know how much time passed. Another train arrived. People boarded it, and it left. The platform emptied, and it grew strangely quiet. I didn’t hear a bird or a car horn. It was as if the world beyond was drifting away. It saddened me. It was a pretty day, with clouds here and there just the way I liked them, looking puffy and clean white. I didn’t feel any breeze, nor did the leaves move on the trees. I so wanted to be part of the warm calmness, but I couldn’t.

  And then, as if nothing had happened since Daddy and I stepped off the train, Mazy appeared as she had that night. Only she did look a lot older, leaning forward even more as she walked. Shadows darkened under her
eyes and made the wrinkles in her forehead look deeper. She wore a dark-blue sweater over her housecoat, and her black socks were gathered just above her ankles where they had slipped down her legs. She was wearing those same heavy black shoes with the big heels I recalled from that first night.

  Her umbrella had really become her cane. She leaned on it as she stepped onto the platform. When she reached me, she put both hands on the handle and took deep breaths. She had obviously come quickly. Her bosom rose and fell. The strands of her gray hair rebelliously curled in every direction. There were beads of sweat on her forehead.

  “Not as tough as you thought you were, huh?” She wasn’t smiling, but she looked self-satisfied.

  “Why do they hate me so much?”

  “They don’t hate you. They’re afraid of you.”

  “Why?”

  “You’re different. You’re unexpected. That frightens people, but especially children.”

  She looked around, as if she was surprised to be here herself.

  “How did you find me?”

  “I didn’t have to go looking for you, Saffron. If you didn’t come home, you’d go only to one other place. What better place to hope for an escape? You’re still dreaming of that train.”

  She looked harder at me. I didn’t even try to deny it.

  “What did they exactly say that upset you so much?”

  “They knew about the fire that killed my mother. Mrs. Elliot’s secretary told people what you told Mrs. Elliot, that both my parents were killed and that I may or may not have started the fire.”

  “People love to elaborate when they spread gossip,” she said. “A woman like that needs to have her tongue cut out.”

  “Are you going to complain about her?”

  She shook her head. “That just keeps the chatter going. She’ll deny it, anyway. Lying comes easy to busybodies. Who said all this to you?”

  “Stuart Wiley.”

  “Ah. He’s in pain, so he wants everyone else to be.”

  “He made it sound like you told Mrs. Elliot that because I felt responsible, I needed to be raised the way you raised me, homeschooled.”

  She nodded. The rush of blood and breath that had come into her cheeks faded. She looked more white with anger than flushed with red rage.

  “I warned you they could be vicious and make up terrible stories.”

  “Did Daddy tell you that? Is that why he’s never come for me?”

  “Of course not. I told you to ignore them. Now your mind is filled with wild ideas.”

  I gazed down the tracks. “What if the train didn’t stop here? What if it had stopped at a different station? What would have happened to me?”

  “It didn’t. Things occur for a reason we cannot first see or understand,” she said. “Sometimes it takes a lifetime.”

  I looked up at her. Her eyes seemed more puffy, swollen.

  “My instincts were right. I should have turned you away from that entrance and spared us both. I knew I should have waited before enrolling you.”

  “What? Why? I didn’t do anything to make them afraid of me or hate me. And my teachers like me. I could see that.”

  “Why shouldn’t they? Let’s go home. We’ll sleep on it.”

  “Maybe they don’t hate me. Maybe you’re right and they’re afraid of me. But I hate them.”

  She nodded, looking pleased. “If that makes you stronger, then good,” she said. “Come on.”

  She reached for my hand. For a moment, she looked like she didn’t think I would take it.

  “Maybe I’ll go back tomorrow,” I said. I was really talking more to myself than her now. “I shouldn’t have run away. They’re so happy I did, I’m sure.”

  She returned her hand to her umbrella. “If that’s what you want, more pain, go back.”

  I rose. “I might. Don’t try to stop me. I’m not afraid of more pain.”

  She raised her heavy, now mostly gray eyebrows. “I won’t stop you if you’re determined.”

  I thought about how they would all look at me if I went back, those wry, smug smiles. They’d try to make me feel like I was hiding behind my teachers, using them as shields. Couldn’t I still beat them?

  “I’ll go back,” I said, nodding.

  She shrugged. “Yes, maybe you will. We’ll see. C’mon. Let’s go home.”

  We walked off the train platform. I did pause when it came time to make the turn to home, but only for a second. I could return now, I thought. I would simply walk into my next class and enjoy the look of shock on the faces of the three witches.

  “Saffron?”

  “They called you from school?”

  “Of course.”

  “What did they say?” I asked as we continued.

  “That you were upset and ran out. Your English teacher had gone to Mrs. Krammer. He was worried. You said something about his classroom being on fire.”

  “No, I didn’t. Did I?”

  “She didn’t know much more, but she did go out to look for you. I promised to call her after I found you.”

  “I’m sure they’re making fun of me right now because I ran away. I can almost hear the laughter.”

  “Stop thinking about it, Saffron.”

  “I’m just ashamed of myself. I should have told them off.”

  “That’s good. Maybe you will,” she said. She paused to catch her breath again. “Unfortunately, meanness comes with the territory.”

  “What territory?”

  “Humanity,” she muttered. She groaned. “I get so tired of it.”

  Vaguely, I thought as we walked along, Mazy was not as spry as usual. Did all this sicken her as much as it sickened me, or was it something else? She did tell me that anger and unhappiness give the pains in your body permission to sound off. The way she was walking looked like hers were screaming.

  It did take us longer to get home, but when we did, she went right to the phone to call Mrs. Krammer.

  “I found her,” I heard her say. “She’s fine. We’ll see,” she added after listening. I didn’t have to ask her what she meant by that.

  I went to my room. I was so upset with myself that I didn’t even want Mr. Pebbles with me and shut the door. Mazy didn’t come to get me for lunch. The excitement and tension had made me tired, and I fell asleep. When I awoke, I was confused for a few moments and then looked at my watch, saw how late it was, and got up. I washed my face with cold water and went to the kitchen. I was surprised Mazy wasn’t there. A covered dish was on the table. She had left me some cold chicken and salad, but I wasn’t very hungry.

  She was not in the living room, so I walked up to her bedroom. The door was open. She was on her back, and there were no lights on, but she wasn’t asleep. Mr. Pebbles was on her bed, curled up.

  “Are you sick?” I asked.

  “A little tired,” she said. “I left you some lunch.”

  “I saw. Thank you.”

  Somehow this was all my fault, I thought.

  “I’m sorry,” I said.

  She lifted her head a little and then lay back again.

  “You have nothing to be sorry about. That’s what they do. They always manage to get you to blame yourself.”

  I stood there looking at her. “Can I bring you anything? Tea?”

  “No. You eat. I just need some rest. I’m not going to tell you what to do. If you want to go back tomorrow, go back. If not, we’ll keep going and ignore them. You decide.”

  “Okay,” I said. I left and returned to the kitchen, where I sat nibbling on my lunch. After I ate what I wanted, I started to clean up and then stopped and stared at the doorway.

  Mr. Pebbles was standing there looking at me. I poured some cat food into his dish. I was surprised Mazy had forgotten. He walked to it cautiously, suspiciously, and sniffed. I watched him eat, and then I went out back and sat on one of the wooden lawn chairs in the yard. The forest looked deeper, darker, and suddenly not very enticing. I had wanted it to be my refuge, that escape Mazy had referr
ed to at the train station. In it, I had hoped I could find another world for me, a magical place for new memories.

  But suddenly, not now. Now it was just the forest.

  I had never felt this lost and alone, even when Mazy first brought me here. She had been right, of course. Although I never wanted to admit it, even to myself, I knew Daddy wasn’t ever going to come for me. Mazy never prevented me from leaving, and maybe because of that, I never tried to leave. What she did was provide a home for me, get me everything I needed, including a private education. She kept me protected for as long as she could, and when I felt the need to be with others my age, to have friends and maybe someday to love someone, she made that possible, too.

  And yet somehow I felt as if by doing all this she had only locked me up more tightly. When she had found me at the train station, she had said, “If you didn’t come home, you’d go only to one other place. What better place to hope for an escape?”

  The key word was hope. She was right. I wasn’t getting on any train. I didn’t know where I would go. I could only come back here. There was no escape, not even in the woods now. Maybe if I returned to school tomorrow and faced down the ugliness and the threats, I would eventually find an escape. I’d break through, overwhelm them with my determination. Surely I would win over my teachers. I had a good start on that. Thinking this gave me some confidence, but was it enough? I’d know in the morning, I thought. I’d either get up and get dressed and go or go up to our private classroom.

  Darkness was creeping in from the woods. It was cooler, too. I embraced myself and almost instantly remembered doing that at the train station just before Mazy had found me. It had been so long since I had thought about it, envisioned Daddy walking quickly away, his collar up, disappearing around the corner.

  Odd, but it wasn’t until this very moment, recalling that moment, that I remembered a feeling I never wanted to acknowledge. It was relief. Was it possible that I was glad he was gone?

  I shuddered.

  Did Mazy always know that?

  I had brought a secret with me to this house, a secret I had even kept from myself.