The Unwelcomed Child (15 page)

When I tried something on and stepped out, her eyes rolled and her lips curled into her mouth. It took hours to settle on two dresses, two skirts, and two blouses. To get her to agree to some of it, I had to accept sizes a little too large. What didn’t help was the other girls shopping on their own, buying and giggling over “sexually explicit” garments.

“And adults wonder why children have gone so wrong these days,” she told my grandfather.

He kept quiet most of the time, recognizing that if he offered an opinion, she might pounce on him and hurl memories at him, especially mistakes he had approved when it came to my mother. Ironically, the more she referred to her, the more fascinated I became with her. Someday, when I was older and more independent, I would seek her out, I thought. I was growing more determined about that.

We went to the shoe department, where she had an easier time approving two pairs and some running shoes for me to have for PE class. The principal had told her about the PE uniform. She told me that she had insisted on seeing one, and when he showed it to her, she wasn’t totally happy with it and told him that it was too abbreviated. He reassured her that the board of education had approved it with input from the parent-teacher organization. She contained her criticism, but she didn’t change her mind.

“We’ll shop for your school supplies toward the end of the summer,” she told me after we bought my new shoes. She sounded as if it was still undecided whether I would attend public school.

I didn’t contradict a thing she said or argue for anything that didn’t meet with her immediate approval. It was almost as if it didn’t matter whether or not I was present to shop for what I needed. I saw pained looks on my grandfather’s face but never attempted to get him to argue with her or disagree with her decisions.

Except for my blouses and dresses being a little too large, I didn’t think my clothing would draw too much ridicule. For me, despite her attitude, it was like Christmas. So much of what I possessed before was either hand-me-downs or bought at some thrift store where someone could find older fashions. As we were leaving the mall, Grandfather Prescott saw a French beret he thought would look cute on me. I loved the idea and held my breath as she considered.

“It’s the proper hat for a budding new artist, Myra,” he said softly.

She didn’t offer any resistance, which was as close to an approval as we could get, and he was able to buy me the beret.

“I’d like to learn French,” I said afterward. Claudine seemed to know so many French words and terms. I couldn’t help wanting to be more like her.

I anticipated hearing that my mother had wanted to learn a language, too, maybe even French, and how that came to naught, but Grandmother Myra said nothing. It was my grandfather who approved and made the point that I was ambitious.

“When it comes to learning, that’s very good,” he said, and looked at my grandmother to add, “and it’s all your doing, Myra. She’s been very lucky having you as her homeschool teacher.”

I wondered if my grandmother could sense whenever my grandfather contrived a compliment. Lately, it always sounded as if he was placating her the way an adult might placate a child. Whether or not she knew it, she usually looked pleased. It seemed to work this time, too, and I was grateful.

However, Grandfather Prescott almost ruined my morning by suggesting that they take me to lunch. She pounced on that, sneering at the garbage they called food served at high prices. When we arrived home and he helped carry in my boxes of clothes and shoes, he nearly spoiled things again. He looked at my small bedroom and said, “Maybe it’s time we moved her upstairs, Myra.”

It was as if he had lit a fire under her. Her eyes widened, and her mouth fell open for a moment. “What?”

“She doesn’t have proper closets, and the lighting is so poor. It’s a waste not utilizing that room.”

“Next thing you’ll be suggesting is we get her a telephone just for her.”

“Maybe. She’ll make friends, I hope, and it’s only natural for them to want to talk to each other. You won’t want our phone tied up, not that we get many calls.” It sounded clearly like a complaint. She ignored it.

“Out of the question,” she said, and practically fled.

Grandfather Prescott winked. “Give her a little time,” he said.

Give her a little time? I’m fifteen,
I thought. I doubted that any amount of time would ever matter, but I didn’t say anything. I put my new things away as best I could and then went out to help make the chicken salad she had designated for our late lunch. Grandmother Myra’s critique of the way teenagers dressed and behaved in the mall dominated the conversation at the table. I didn’t think she had seen all that I had.

“Did you see how many girls have those rings in their noses and that girl who had her lips pierced?” she asked me.

Of course I had. I had been gaping at them a little too long, and they started glaring at me and talking about me, which sent a sharp electric fear through me. They looked so tough and mean, with their black lipstick and nail polish and short haircuts. I was afraid they might come over to complain and my grandmother would be enraged that I had given them any attention. Fortunately, they lost interest in me.

I shook my head. “No, Grandmother. I didn’t see them.”

“Good. That’s a good way to determine whom you should speak to and whom you shouldn’t when you’re in school,” she said. “Any girl who wears that disgusting makeup, has a tattoo, or wears rings in her face is poison, understand?”

I nodded. “The Bible forbids tattoos,” I said.

She liked that. “Of course. God doesn’t want us mutilating our bodies like savages and heathens.”

I was still very excited about attending public school, but every moment, it seemed she was laying down another rule, something else that was forbidden, and then describing dangers I had to understand. It was more like traversing a minefield than attending a public school. Nevertheless, I filed it all as far back in my mind as I could and kept my excitement alive, my future hopeful. A real part of why I could do that was my new friends, Mason and Claudine. Not that I had any way of judging, but I thought they must be the most sophisticated and knowledgeable people my age I could ever hope to meet.

As soon as I finished cleaning up after our lunch, I gathered my new art materials and made for the back door.

“You’re to be back here by four,” Grandmother Myra called from the living room.

“It’s almost two-thirty, Grandmother. Can’t I have until five?”

I heard my grandfather mumbling, and then she said, “Okay, five, and don’t get wet again.”

“I won’t,” I said, and hurried out before she could issue another warning or change her mind. I hadn’t taken the paints. I would do a sketch first and then begin mixing and painting tomorrow. There wasn’t time to do much more.

The weather had held up nicely, with a nearly cloudless cobalt-blue sky. The small clouds looked like lost children who had broken off from their parents. It was the way I felt most of the time, drifting alone. As usual, the birds began to flutter and grow noisier, as if they had been waiting for my appearance. A soft breeze lifted leaves, making it seem they were greeting me as I tracked through what was now my personal pathway. The easel was light, and I had no trouble carrying it with my new large pad and pencils.

When I arrived at the place on the lake that offered the view of Mason and Claudine’s home and dock, I put everything down and unfolded the easel. Mason appeared on the dock instantly. He had been waiting for any sign of me. I saw that he was in a bathing suit and barefoot. He waved, and I waved back, and then he got into his rowboat quickly and started toward me.

“Don’t you look professional now,” he said as he turned the boat in. “I love you in that beret. I guess this means your grandmother has approved of your attending public school.”

“Yes,” I said. “For now.”

“I think you should set up your easel on our lawn, where we have that full view of the lake. I’ll help you with it all,” he said, stepping into the water.

“I can’t get even a little wet today,” I told him.

“Don’t worry about it. You won’t.” He picked up my pad and pencils. “Okay?”

“I must be back home by five,” I said.

“What, do they eat early-bird specials even at home?”

“I’m afraid so,” I said.

“Okay, okay. I’ll make sure you’re back by five.”

He put my things in the boat and then took the easel carefully and set it down over the middle bench seat. After that, I took off my shoes and socks. He put them in, and then, when I started into the water, he scooped me into his arms.

“No sense taking any chances,” he said. He punctuated that with a kiss on the tip of my nose and gently set me in the boat.

Before we started out, I saw that Claudine had walked onto the dock, too. She was wearing a pair of very short shorts and a blue T-shirt with something written on it. When we were closer, I saw that it read, “Free love is too expensive.”

“What does her shirt mean?”

“Don’t ask me. She prints them herself. My father bought her a machine that does it.”

We docked, and he began to hand up my art materials to her.

“We’ll set her up just outside the basement patio doors,” he told her. “She has to be back by five.”

“Are you going to do me?” she asked.

“No, I thought . . . a lake scene.” I showed her what I had drawn quickly yesterday. “I want to make it bigger on my new pad and then begin painting it tomorrow.”

“Nice, but I’m more of a challenge,” she said.

“Later, Claudine,” he advised. “She’s definitely going to public school.”

“If my grandmother doesn’t change her mind,” I added.

“Why would she?”

“She won’t,” Mason insisted. “Stop worrying.”

“What sort of clothes did she buy you?” Claudine asked.

I described everything as we walked to the house.

“Ugh,” she said. “Tell you what. I’ll give you some of my things. We’re just about the same size. You can go to school in your Amish clothes and then go into the bathroom and change into what I give you.”

“I can’t do that.”

“Of course you can. I do it all the time. My mother forbids me to wear something, and I stuff it into my book bag and change at school. Lots of girls do it.”

“Lots of girls she knows, she means,” Mason said.

“Other girls aren’t worth knowing,” she countered, and he laughed.

He set up my easel, and I put the pad on it and opened my small pad again. The two of them sat at my feet, folding their legs and looking up at me.

“We don’t make you nervous, do we?” Mason asked.

“No. Well, maybe a little.”

“Good,” Claudine said. “You should always be a little nervous about anything you do. That way, you’ll be more cautious, especially when it comes to boys. Always begin with the belief that they can’t be trusted. That way, you won’t be disappointed, and if they are trustworthy, you’ll feel like you’ve struck gold.”

“She’s the cynical one in the family,” Mason said.

“And therefore the happiest, because I’m never disappointed.”

“Please, what about Willy Landers?”

“That was an anomaly. You know what that means, Elle?”

I nodded. If I was going to be truthful, I’d have to admit my grandmother had given me an education up to this point that was as good as, if not better than, the one girls and boys my age were getting at the public school. The intensity of my work and her high standards gave me the confidence.

“Something irregular, abnormal.”

“Check,” Mason said. “I told you, Claudine. You’re underestimating her.”

“Maybe with school subjects, but your life is about to begin, Elle. You’ll find yourself spending more of your attention and time on other things.”

I nodded and kept drawing. Claudine put her head on Mason’s lap and sprawled out.

“Our parents will be back tonight,” she said.

“Right. I’ll finally get some decent dinners.”

“You eat everything I make and then some,” Claudine told him.

He shrugged. “Beggars can’t be choosers.”

“Poor you. What about you, Elle? Can you cook?”

“I can make anything my grandmother makes. I’ve watched her prepare often enough. Nothing you would call gourmet, I’m sure,” I added.

“Our mother fancies herself a gourmet cook. She takes expensive lessons from very well-known chefs and then experiments on us.”

“No one complains,” Mason said.

“You’ll have to come to our house for dinner one night,” Claudine said.

I stopped drawing. Didn’t she understand that I was sneaking out to meet them?

I saw the expression change on her face.

“You still haven’t told your grandparents about meeting us, have you?” she asked.

I shook my head.

“Why not?”

I didn’t know what to say, how to put it. My grandmother would never approve of my knowing a girl who swam naked and especially not a boy who did.

“How are you going to make any friends when you go to school? She expects you’ll do that, right?”

I shrugged. She still didn’t understand how new all of this was for me.

“As I told you, she’d have to know who they were first,” I said.

“Inspect and examine them to be sure they were wholesome, huh?”

“Yes.”

“Are we wholesome, Mason?”

“Not if you can help it,” he said, and she laughed.

“Then we’d be forbidden,” she concluded, but then she brightened. “We’ll remain forbidden. I’ve never been considered forbidden. I think I like it.”

“I don’t think your mother would like it,” Mason said.

“Then let’s be sure not to say anything,” she warned him. “Don’t worry, Elle. We’ll handle it all. Why don’t you take five?”

“Take five?”

“A break. I want to see how some of my clothes fit you and get a little female talk in without you-know-who eavesdropping.”

“I’ll die of loneliness,” Mason said.

“Don’t worry. We’ll figure out how to resurrect you,” Claudine told him, and stood. “C’mon,” she urged, taking the pencil out of my hand and putting it on the easel. Then she took my hand and practically dragged me into the house.