Swan Place (30 page)

“I called Aunt Bett today,” Crystal said. “She says she hasn’t heard anything else, and Aunt Mee is watching to see if the sheriff comes back to our house, but she says she hasn’t seen anything like that.”

“Let’s go ahead and call Miz Swan’s lawyer,” Buzzard suggested. “Might take us a little while before we can get an appointment anyway.”

“Yes,” Crystal agreed. “Please,” she added.

“But on the other hand,” Buzzard mused. “If one of these children is really his own flesh-and-blood child, I guess the best lawyer in the world isn’t going to be able to do much.”

“Oh.” Crystal’s voice sounded like all the air going out of a balloon. “Well then, let’s just wait a little bit,” she finally suggested. “If that’s all right.”

“That’s all right,” Buzzard agreed.

I’d had so much fun
on Saturday, it was Sunday morning before I realized that we needed to find somewhere to go to church. When I came downstairs, Buzzard was taking biscuits out of the oven, and I poured glasses of milk for me and Molly and Little Ellis. Then I got up my courage to ask Buzzard about church.

“Buzzard, where does Miz Swan go to church? When she’s here, I mean?”

“Why you asking?”

“I just wondered,” I said.

“Oh, Miz Swan goes to a big Episcopal church over in Augusta,” Buzzard answered. “A long drive.”

“Well then, can we go to church with you? Me and Molly and Little Ellis, I mean. I think Crystal should get to sleep late on Sundays, but I know Aunt Bett would want us to go to church.”

Buzzard paused for a moment. “That would be fine,” she said. “But I sing in the choir, so you’d have to sit without me.”

“That’s okay.”

“Don’t know as there’s ever been any white folks in our church,” Buzzard added.

“Is it okay?” I asked, feeling a little uncomfortable.

“I expect so.” But she didn’t sound very convinced. “Just that it’s never come up before.” We were quiet for a while, with me thinking of Aunt Bett’s church and wondering how folks would have acted if three black people came to the services there. But I couldn’t figure out how it would have been.

“Of course, it’s okay,” Buzzard said, nodding her head. “Of course it is!”

So I got Molly, Little Ellis, and me all dressed and ready to go. We were real quiet, so as not to wake Crystal up. Then we went and sat on the back porch steps to wait for Buzzard. And when she finally came out, she sure did look fine. She was wearing a navy blue dress with a wide white collar and a white hat with a veil, and white gloves and black patent leather shoes and pocketbook.

“You sure do look nice,” I said.

“You all look right nice yourselves,” she said. “Let’s us get going now. We’re running kinda late.” We got ourselves loaded into Miz Swan’s big car, with Buzzard once again reminding Molly and Little Ellis not to put their feet on the seat.

“I’m glad Miz Swan lets you use her car while she’s gone,” I said.

Buzzard laughed. “Tell you the truth, Miz Swan lets me do about whatever I please.” She laughed again. I didn’t know what was so funny about it, but I decided not to ask. After only a mile or so, Buzzard slowed the car and turned right onto a red clay road. Then she stepped down on the accelerator and the big car roared ahead.

“Gotta hurry,” she said. “We’re late.”

When we turned onto yet another unpaved road, even narrower than the one we had been on, I saw the church—a small, white church with a tin roof and a steeple almost bigger than the church itself. But Buzzard must have been right about us being late, because there wasn’t a soul outside of the church. We went up the steps and through the wide-open doors, and Buzzard patted the back pew.

“Right here,” she said.

“But what about Molly and Little Ellis?”

“What about them?”

“Don’t they go to Sunday School?”

“Sunday School during church services?” Buzzard sounded truly surprised.

“Yes. That’s the way at Aunt Bett’s church,” I explained.

“Not that way here,” Buzzard said, and before I could say another word, she hurried away. So we settled ourselves onto the hard bench, with me wondering how Molly and Little Ellis would act, sitting through a long service. But soon, I forgot to worry about that because I got to looking around at the people. The men all wore dark suits, and the women were all dressed up just as much as Buzzard, with hats and gloves.

But I also noticed that Buzzard was right again: We were the only white people in the church, and I noticed a few people glancing at us and then nudging other folks, who turned and glanced at us themselves. The glances were quick and polite, and one older man even nodded his head at us. From somewhere up front, piano music started playing something real sweet and sad sounding, and people let out a low moan and started swaying to the music. Some of them swayed front-to-back, and some swayed side-to-side. It was truly interesting, because where there were front-to-back and side-to-side folks sitting beside each other, it was almost like they were doing a dance that could make them bump smack into each other at any minute. A side door opened and the choir came into the room. The people clapped and the choir people smiled and nodded. Buzzard was the third to come in, and she sure looked nice. And I thought I saw one of the Sisters of the Circle of Jesus, but I couldn’t be sure. The choir was made up of more people than were in the pews, and I soon found out how silly I’d been to worry that Molly and Little Ellis might not be able to sit still—because in only a little while,
nobody
was sitting still! When the choir started out on another slow, sad-sounding song, some of the people stood up, put their heads back, and held their hands palms-up toward the underside of that high tin roof. The choir rocked oh-so-slowly back and forth, back and forth from side to side like they were all connected to each other, and the song went on and on, like a sad vine that grew and twined around, in and among all the people.

Finally, it wound itself down, and in front of where we were sitting, two women still stood with their eyes closed. They were both crying, though they made not a sound. The final notes on the piano lingered around a little and then started another song, this one faster and lots happier-sounding, and when the choir joined in, their voices were so strong, I almost thought they would break the glass in the open windows. All the people were swaying and clapping and the choir members swaying together again, only much faster, and clapping their hands. Some people got up and went into the aisle and hugged each other and sang and danced around. The music and the singing and the clapping went on and on, until I thought for sure that tin roof high above our heads would surely fly right off! And then it all stopped, but the people were still saying things like “Praise the Lord!” and “Hallelujah!” And one lady said “Sweet Jesus!” over and over again.

When the preacher came out, I thought things would get real quiet, like at Aunt Bett’s church, but they didn’t. That preacher just sort of jumped into the rhythm that song had left hanging in the air, like his big voice was making the sound of the piano and the choir. Because he got into kind of a singsong talking that was just like the way a poem goes clippity-clopping along, and oh, how the people loved it! They hollered things to him almost all the time, like “Amen!” and “Praise Jesus!” I guess I never saw so much happiness gathered under one roof in my whole life. I looked down at Molly and Little Ellis, and their mouths were hanging open. But their eyes were bright and happy, so I knew they were enjoying every single minute. I wasn’t all too sure what the sermon was about, but the way that preacher used all those strong words and the way the people echoed them back to him was just… wonderful! He marched back and forth, waved his arms, and even stomped his feet a few times. Maybe me and Molly and Little Ellis weren’t showing how much we liked it—at least not like all the other folks—but we enjoyed it almost to death! Finally, he yelled his last “Amen!” and sank into his chair, taking out a big white handkerchief and wiping his streaming face. I could hardly believe that we’d been sitting there for almost two whole hours.

“Potty!” Molly whispered to me, so while the choir started up again, I took Molly and Little Ellis outside, and we walked around the building, looking for a bathroom. We found one just inside the back door, and when we came out, church was over and people were standing around in little clumps under the shade of the trees, talking and laughing together.

“Well, how did you all like it?” Buzzard had come out right behind us.

“It was wonderful!” I said most truthfully.

“Good! Let’s introduce you all to some folks.” We sure met lots of people that day, and they were all so nice to us. I recognized some of the Sisters of the Circle of Jesus, but I couldn’t remember their right Circle names. The only one I didn’t forget was Sister Blood-of-the-Lamb.

“Is Sister Blood-of-the-Lamb here?”

“She’s around here somewhere,” Buzzard said, looking around. “Oh, there she is.” Buzzard waved her hand to where Sister Blood-of-the-Lamb was sitting in the shade in a folding chair. She was sound asleep, with her head drooped down onto her shoulder and her tiny hands curled in her lap. But while I was watching her, all of a sudden she opened her eyes, lifted her head, and looked right at me.

“Dove.” I couldn’t hear her voice, but I knew what she had said, and goose bumps popped up on my arms. We looked and looked at each other, and the strangest feeling came over me. Maybe like all the edges of what I call me—whatever makes me Dove and simply myself—disappeared for one bright second, and something like a light went right through me! Not a light you could see with your eyes but one you could only feel in your heart. Why, it lasted for only a second, but it almost took my breath away! And the whole time of that strange feeling, Sister Blood-of-the-Lamb’s eyes never left mine.

Afterwards, I wanted so bad to tell somebody—anybody—about what had happened to me, but I couldn’t. It didn’t make any sense at all, and besides, I knew I couldn’t say it right, no matter how hard I tried.

When we got home from church, Crystal was sitting out on the back porch shelling butterbeans. She was wearing white shorts and a pretty pink blouse, and she had her hair in a ponytail tied with a pink ribbon. Why, I’d almost forgotten how very pretty she was! She smiled at us, and I could tell that she was feeling much better. Still, her eyes were a little bit swollen, so I knew she’d been crying.
Poor Crystal!
I thought. And I wished and wished I could do something to make her feel better. But no matter how hard I thought, there just didn’t seem to be anything I could do. We were stuck, pure and simple! And if Buzzard couldn’t get Miz Swan’s lawyer to help us, all of our being stuck away from home would be for nothing!