Swan's Way (5 page)

And then there was Ginna. The minute he looked at her, his interest was aroused and his blood ran a little hotter. She was lovely—as slender as a model, as pretty as one of those china figurines from France, as bright and pleasant as a sunny day in spring. It was clear that the other three women and old Lynch adored her, and just as clear why. She seemed to form the nucleus of an aura of warmth and love. But why on earth was she wearing that ratty old costume?

Neal didn’t have long to ponder the question before the women spotted him.

Ginna felt Elspeth’s sharp elbow nudge her ribs. “Look there! At the door. It’s
him!”

Marcellus tried to continue his rambling monologue, but now all three of the old ladies were yammering at once. Only a deaf person would have called it whispering.

“I vow! He’s never set foot on the veranda before,” said Pansy. “Should we invite him to tea, Sister?”

“There’s no tea left,” she snapped, glaring up at Lynch. “This one drank it all.”

“Surely there’s a drop or two in the bottom of the pot,” Elspeth put in.

“Oh, Mr. Frazier!” Pansy called, without waiting for an end to the discussion. “Do join us, won’t you? We’ve all been dying to make your acquaintance. We have someone visiting who’d like to meet you, too, and she only comes once a week, and she’s
single.”

Ginna felt her cheeks warm with embarrassment. She did want to meet Neal Frazier, but she hadn’t said one word about it. Now their introduction would be spoiled because he would think she was the pushy sort, always chasing after handsome men. And he certainly was handsome—dark and mysterious looking. Her friends had not exaggerated on that point.

“Pansy,
please!”
she whispered, trying to silence the over-eager matchmaker.

“You needn’t beg, my dear. He’s coming right over.”

“You, Lynch!” Sister hissed. “You make the formal introductions. It wouldn’t be proper for us ladies to have to introduce ourselves to a strange man.”

Marcellus nodded his agreement and snatched the last sugar cookie from the plate before they could offer it to Neal.

“’Afternoon, ladies,” Neal said, pantomiming a tip of his nonexistent hat.

The older man hurrumphed loudly, then said, “Mr. Neal Frazier, I would like to present Mrs. Elspeth McAllister, Mrs. Sister Randolph, and Miss Pansy Pennycock.” In a whispered aside, he added, “She’s an old maid.”

“Charmed, ladies,” Neal said, with a smile, never taking his eyes off Ginna for an instant.

“And this fair young maid is
our
Ginna,” Lynch said, alarmed by Neal’s rapt attention to their guest.

She offered her hand. “Ginna Jones, Mr. Frazier. I hear you’ve just arrived.”

“Please, call me Neal, all of you.” Still smiling at Ginna, he added, “I hate to say it, but the four days I’ve been here seem like four years.”

“You’ll adjust,” Sister said sharply. “We all do, in time. Set yourself a routine and stick to it. That’s the way to get by.”

“We understand you’re single,” Pansy piped up. “Just like Ginna.”

Ginna clutched her throat, horrified, but Neal only chuckled. “So Dr. Kirkwood told me, Miss Pennycock. Personally, I don’t know how she’s managed it, as pretty as she is.”

The three older women tittered over his reply. Ginna first blushed deeper, then chuckled. The private look Neal gave her, with his wine-dark eyes twinkling, let her know that he had said what he had simply to delight Pansy, Elspeth, and Sister.

“How long will you be here?” Ginna asked.

“I really don’t know. I suppose that’s up to Dr. Kirkwood.”

“Well, Neal, you just consider yourself invited to tea every single afternoon,” Pansy said. “We don’t want you to get lonesome, staying all to yourself like you have been. Why, mercy’s sake, we thought you’d never come out of your room!”

He bowed slightly and smiled. “Thank you, ma’am. It’s always nice to be invited to a party.”

“Some party!” Sister snapped, turning a vicious eye on Lynch. “We don’t even have the crumb of a cookie to offer you.”

“That’s quite all right. Supper won’t be long, now. I wouldn’t want to spoil one of Swan’s Quarter’s gourmet meals.”

They all laughed. The very thought of anything
gourmet
coming out of the kitchen at Swan’s Quarter!

Ginna rose suddenly. “I didn’t realize it was so late.”

The ladies all begged Ginna to stay a little longer.

“Whose permission must I ask to take a walk with Ginna?” Neal glanced around the group.

“Who says she wants to walk with you?” Marcellus bellowed, feeling threatened by another fox in his henhouse.

As the others talked, Ginna kept staring at Neal. Where had she seen him before? He seemed so familiar. And it wasn’t only that he looked like someone she knew: Seeing him also awoke feelings that she had experienced in the past. Mentally, she flipped through a file of all the men she had ever dated. Neal’s face was not among them. He seemed a part of her distant past, yet a part of her immediate present, too.

“Miss Jones, since I’m new here, will you show me around the grounds?”

Ginna snapped herself back to the present. She smiled and took the arm Neal offered. “It’s late and I really must be going now, anyway,” she said, by way of apology, to her friends. “Neal can walk me down the hill. I’ll see you all next Monday. Thank you for tea.”

There was cheek kissing all around—except for old Lynch, who got a brief hug—then Ginna started down the stairs holding Neal’s arm. An attendant in a starched white uniform appeared on the veranda to usher the ladies inside, out of the twilight chill.

“Ginna—I like that,” Neal said thoughtfully, as they headed down the path toward the swan pond. “What’s it short for?”

“Nothing that I know of.”

“A family name, then?”

“I had no family to be named for. The stork simply dropped me on the steps of the hospital in Winchester. I had a silver locket around my neck with that name engraved on it. That’s all I know.”

“So it really was your foster mother you first came to visit here?”

Ginna stared up at him through the gathering twilight. “Who told you that?”

“Dr. Kirkwood. I was in his office when you came up the path. Among my other many faults, I’m a nosey cuss. I hope you don’t mind that he told me.”

“Not really. And, yes. She was at least one of my foster mothers. I never seemed to stay long in any home, and, of course, I was never adopted.”

“Why not? From the looks of you now, I’d say you must have been a sweet, beautiful baby.”

She rolled her eyes at him for laying it on so thick. “I had some medical problems when I was young. People want perfect babies when they adopt. But enough about me. What about you, Mr. Neal Frazier. What in the world are you doing at Swan’s Quarter?”

“You mean the ladies didn’t fill you in?”

“Well, sort of,” she admitted. “I know you’ve been through some sort of trauma.”

When his arm tightened under hers, she wanted to bite her tongue. She should never have brought up his problem. It was his place and his alone to do that.

He sensed her reaction. “It’s all right. The doc says it will do me good to talk about the plane crash. That’s what it was—the trauma.”

Ginna shivered. “I’ve never liked flying.”

“Flying never bothered me. It’s when your plane stops flying that it gets scary as hell.”

Wanting desperately to change the subject, Ginna said, “I’ve seen you somewhere before. Have we ever met?”

Neal chuckled. “That’s a line as old as the hills. I used to use it on girls, when I was in the Army.”

“It’s not a line. You really do look familiar to me, Neal.”

“If you read the newspapers, you probably saw my picture with ‘HERO’ plastered all over it, after the crash. I’m a long way from fitting that label, but I did bring a little girl out with me, thanks to her mother.”

“Oh, yes! I remember reading all about that. I even saw you on television.” She thought about it for a moment, then shook her head. “No, that’s not why you look familiar. You had a beard then, if I remember correctly. Your hair was a lot longer, too.”

“Yeah, I’d ridden my motorcycle out to Colorado and camped in the Rockies for a couple of months. I still looked like a mountain man when I came back.”

“No, I’m sure that’s not it. It’ll come to me, though.”

“Hey, if I’d ever met you before, I’d remember. You can take that to the bank. I never forget a pretty face. When will you be back? Tomorrow?”

Ginna smiled at the eager tone in his voice. “Next Monday. I have to make a living, you know.”

“Shoot!” He sounded truly disappointed. “You? Work? And here I thought you were a Southern belle, suspended in time, living in a phantom plantation house deep in these woods.”

“Don’t I wish!” She laughed. “No, just plain old flesh and blood Ginna Jones, who works hard for a living.”

They paused beside the swan pond. Neal slipped his hand into hers and noticed that her fingers were cold. He brought both her hands to his lips and blew hard to warm them.

“Swans are nice,” he said out of nowhere. “Did you know they mate for life? It’s the swan’s way.”

“I never thought about it.”

“Well, you have it on the best authority now. They do. If one is lost, the other spends the rest of its life all alone—searching, never giving up hope that someday…”

“Stop!” Ginna whispered. “You’re going to make me cry. Poor swans!”

“They look happy enough to me,” he said, “gliding around their pretty pond.”

“But now I’ll worry all week, until I can get back and make sure that they’re both still here.”

“People could learn from swans,” Neal said.“When you find love, don’t let it go.”

It was a good thing Ginna didn’t question him about the strange remark. If she had, he couldn’t have explained himself. He had no idea why he had said such a thing. He had never been the poetic type—far from it. He only knew that here in the dying sun that turned the swan pond as golden as Ginna’s hair, he felt a little less lonely, a little more hopeful. Maybe the best part of his life wasn’t behind him. Feeling the warmth of Ginna’s body close to his, having her to talk to, knowing that she would come back—even if he had to wait a whole week—made him feel better, gave him something to look forward to, something to live for, after all.

“I really have to go now,” Ginna said.

“So soon?”

“Yes, and you’ll miss supper unless you hurry back up the hill.”

“I’m not hungry anyway.”

“We’ll have more time to talk when I come back next week. I’ll show you around. Have you seen the greenhouse yet?”

“No. I’ve been sticking pretty close to my room, nursing my own misery.” He laughed, but there was no humor in it.

Ginna gave him a bright smile. “Well, we’ll just fix that, won’t we?”

“Will we?” He searched her face with his sad, dark eyes.

“I promise,” she whispered, and then she was gone.

It was dark when Neal climbed back up the hill. He didn’t notice that shortly after Ginna disappeared into the woods, the tall tulip poplar vanished as well.

Ginna left Swan’s Quarter on Monday evening feeling like a woman transformed. Meeting Neal Frazier had reawakened some part of her that had been dormant for a long, long time. For most of her life, she had felt like an outsider, merely an observer as things happened to other people, while she went about her own unvarying routine. Nothing ever seemed to touch her personally.
Don’t get involved. Stay clear. Stay safe
. It had been the creed she’d lived by. Her early years, passing from one family to the next, had taught her that to love someone meant to be hurt, sooner or later.

Now, for the first time in her life, she was willing to allow herself to be vulnerable. It seemed that Neal possessed some magical key that might release her from her self-imposed prison of loneliness. Somehow she knew that their meeting today could make all the difference in her life, if she let it.

Getting off the bus, she walked the short distance to her apartment, just east of downtown Winchester. Nearby stood Stonewall Cemetery, where several thousand Confederate and Union soldiers lay buried. Her gaze was drawn to the memorial obelisk that marked the common grave of several hundred Confederate unknowns. A shiver ran through her. How sad it must have been for these men’s families to never have their loved ones accounted for.

Ginna turned away, unwilling to allow such grim thoughts to intrude on her good mood. Twilight’s brisk breeze had turned to a blustery, cold wind with the coming of darkness. Bending into the gusts, she quickened her step, craving the warmth of home and bed. It had been a long day, an amazing day.

Her “apartment” had once been a small antebellum house. Some recent owner had installed a tiny modern bath and built another unit at one end, creating a duplex. Often, Ginna wished that she had chosen the newer quarters over the historical part. But she did enjoy the huge, flagstone fireplace, where she imagined meals had been cooked over a century ago, the rustic beamed ceiling, and the quaint atmosphere of a bygone era.

Before she pulled off her coat, she struck a long match and touched it to the kindling she had laid before leaving for work. Instantly, orange and blue flames leaped through the small stack of pine and oak logs. She hovered close, warming her hands. After several minutes, she felt comfortable. She yawned. She was tired. It was good to be home by her cozy hearth.

Ginna wasn’t hungry in the least, but she had vowed to make herself eat. She heated a can of chicken noodle soup and toasted two slices of raisin bread. She thought about turning the television on, then decided she preferred the soothing crackle of the fire to the latest bad news from around the world. Quiet time was what she needed most—to think, to savor all that had happened to her today. Settled on the sofa in front of the fireplace, a red-and-green afghan tucked snuggly around her, she ate her supper slowly, watching the flames dance and thinking of Neal.

She wasn’t ready to admit to herself that meeting him had been a case of love at first sight. Who would ever believe in such nonsense? She was certainly too level-headed to put that label on her feelings. Still, there was something about him…

She closed her eyes in thought and, moments later, she was fast asleep.

An unfamiliar sound woke her. A girl was crying, not loudly, but as if her heart would break. Ginna tried to open her eyes, but it seemed an impossible task. Soon, she realized that the tears were her own, as were the soft wails of pain.

“Don’t cry, Virginia. It will be all right,” a boy said, in an uncertain, adolescent tone. “The male swan has probably only gone to look for food. He’ll come back.”

“But what if he doesn’t, Chan? What if he’s gone for good, and his poor mate has to spend the rest of her life alone?”

“That old cob would never stay away by choice.”

“That’s just it, Channing. What if some hunter shot him?” Now her sobs intensified.

She felt his hand settle gently on her trembling arm. “You shouldn’t worry about that, Virginia. Everyone hereabouts knows the swans of Swan’s Quarter. No one would dare harm that old cob. Your daddy’d have their hide.”

The afternoon was fading. The woods beyond the swan pond were already in shadow. Virginia, beautiful even in tears, searched the skies, watching for Leda’s mate.

“It’s getting late, Virginia. I’ll have to head home soon, or Mama will worry.” Realizing that he sounded like a child, when he was trying very hard to be a man for the girl he adored, Channing added, “You know how she is.”

The thought of his leaving, even to go home for supper, suddenly panicked Virginia. She leaned close and rested her head against his shoulder. “Don’t leave me, Chan,” she pleaded in a whisper. “Then I’ll feel just like Leda. See how sad she looks?”

Made bold by his sweetheart’s nearness, he slipped one arm around her waist. “You know I’d never leave you for good. We’ve always been together. We always will be, darlin’.”

At fifteen, it seemed to Virginia Swan that she was on the very brink of everything wonderful and terrible that could happen in a girl’s life. Channing’s arm felt warm and right, holding her close. If she turned just so, he would probably kiss her. But the timing was all wrong. She was sad this afternoon, and she wanted their first kiss to be perfect. She wanted nothing to mar the happiness of that moment. She didn’t turn. She simply let her head rest on Channing’s shoulder and tried to fathom the eruption of emotions she felt deep down inside.

“You
will
leave me!” she said after a time. “When you and Rodney go off to the Military Academy together.”

“That’ll be different. You’ll be sad, but you’ll be proud too. And I’ll keep reminding you in my letters that you have to be a cadet’s sweetheart before you can be a soldier’s wife. Besides, I won’t be leaving for six long months, yet.”

She smiled through her tears, thinking of all the years of togetherness stretching out before them. “And in your letters what else will you tell me, Chan?”

“That I miss you. That I remember every single thing about you.” He brushed the tip of her nose with one finger. “The way your funny little nose tilts up.” He traced the delicate line of her cheek. “They way you blush all rosy when I touch you.” He rubbed his finger over her full bottom lip. “And I hope by then I’ll be able to tell you how soft and sweet your lips are when we kiss.”

Channing shifted until he could look down into her face. “One more thing,” he said very quietly. “I’ll tell you that I love you—over and over again.”

Virginia was breathless. “In every letter?”

“In every single one.”

The missing swan was forgotten suddenly. In fact, the rest of the world vanished in that moment. There were just the two of them, so close that only a breath hovered between them. Virginia was mesmerized by the dark intensity of Channing’s eyes, by the touch of his hand, by the promise of their first kiss.

She closed her eyes, hardly daring to breathe. When she felt the soft pressure of his mouth on hers, she slipped her arms around his neck. The kiss was short and sweet, but the firestorm it kindled seemed to rage through Virginia from her head to her toes. And then it was over. They sat staring at each other in awe and wonder, as if they had just opened a secret passageway to a magical world beyond their wildest dreams.

Virginia was the first to speak, but only a whisper escaped. “It was not like I thought it would be.”

“You’re disappointed.” A scowl darkened his handsome features.

Her own face lit with a brilliant smile. “No, Chan! I mean it was
perfect!
I’d thought it might be only half as good.”

Now Channing’s scowl was feigned. “Too bad, really. If we hadn’t got it right, we would have to try again. Practice makes perfect, you know.”

Virginia laughed and hugged him. “Well, maybe I was wrong. Maybe it wasn’t
quite
perfect.”

They sat beside the swan pond at the edge of the woods, practicing, until the sun had sunk nearly behind the trees. The sound of wings brought them out of their happy haze. They parted and looked up to see the old cob coming in for a landing. His mate welcomed him with a joyful flapping of wings. Moments later, Virginia and Channing watched, as the pair arched their elegant necks and leaned their heads close to form a heart, their mute tribute to their everlasting love for each other.

“There!” Channing said. “Now all’s right with the world.”

Ginna smiled in her sleep. But soon the pair of swans and the pair of lovers faded from her dreams to be replaced by the sound of rifle fire and the moans and screams of dying men. Ginna awoke with a jolt.

“Channing!” she cried. “Where are you?”

She looked around, feeling confused and utterly foolish. She must have slept a long time. The fire had burned low. A glance at her watch told her that in another hour, it would be time to get ready for work. She stretched out on the sofa, deciding it was too late to bother with bed.

As she drifted off again, her thoughts returned to Neal Frazier. He almost seemed a part of her dream. But how could that be? The two people in her subconscious had been total strangers—a pretty teenage girl and her handsome beau. Suddenly, she recalled what Neal had said about the swans, as he was walking with her. Maybe the dream had been spawned by his words. Or maybe the dream came from some deeper, more distant memory. Whatever the source of her romantic illusion, it only made her more eager for Monday to come around again, so she could see Neal. She longed to get to know him better. Much better!

Before then, however, she had to get through six long days at the Rebel Yell Cafe and another six long, lonely nights, with only her dreams for company.

When Ginna arrived at work Tuesday morning, she wondered if—as distracted as she felt—she had come through the wrong door. Or maybe she was dreaming again. A dark-haired, middle-aged woman was wearing blond, bouncy Cindy’s uniform and nametag.

“Ginna, meet Noreen.” Lucille continued pounding dough for her famous biscuits with sausage gravy, as she introduced the two women.

Ginna greeted Noreen warmly, then sidled up to Lucille and whispered, “What about Cindy?”

“She was a no-show yesterday, never even called.”

Guilt-ridden, Ginna said, “I should have stayed. I’m sorry, Lu.”

“No, way! You were dead on your feet Besides, those folks at the nursing home were counting on you. I know how important your Mondays are to you and to them. Noreen’ll do fine. She’s got plenty of experience, even comes with references. I may hire another waitress, too, to take some of the load off the rest of us.”

Now Ginna really felt guilty. She knew she hadn’t been pulling her share of the load lately. She tried, but ever since she had started losing weight, she was so tired all the time. Listless and lightheaded.

“There’s no need to hire another girl, Lucille. I’ll come earlier and stay later, if you need me.”

Lucille stopped pounding her dough and turned to look Ginna right in the eye. “No, you won’t!” she said adamantly. “You’ve just about worked yourself sick these past few weeks since Marge left and I hired that shiftless Cindy.
Bad move!
You’re the best waitress I’ve ever had, but you won’t do me one speck of good if you wind up in the hospital. In fact, I’m thinking you need a whole day off, maybe Tuesdays. Then you’d have a day and a half to yourself. What do you think of that?”

“I don’t know,” Ginna answered lamely, not sure if she should be overjoyed at the thought of more time off or offended that Lucille was saying she could get along fine without her.

Changing the subject abruptly, Lucille asked, “How was your afternoon with the old folks?”

“It was different.” Ginna went to work, filling the giant coffee urn as they talked.

“Oh? How so?”

“There’s a new man at Swan’s Quarter.” She felt her face warm at the mere thought of Neal Frazier.

“Oh, yeah? What’s he in for—just old and ornery, so his kids dumped him?”

“He doesn’t have any kids. He’s young.”

“A
boy
in an old folks’ home?”

“No, no. Not that young. In his thirties. Nice looking, too.”

Wiping her hand across her cheek and leaving a smear of flour, Lucille grinned at Ginna. “So
that’s
what’s going on.”

Ginna was immediately sorry she had mentioned Neal. “Nothing’s
going on,”
she answered, defensively. “He’s just a nice man, a sad case.”

“And you plan to bring a little light into his life?”

“Someone needs to.” Ginna finished with the coffee and turned. “Lucille, have you ever met someone for the first time and felt like you’ve known them somewhere before?”

“Yeah, it’s called déjà vu—just a trick the mind plays. It doesn’t mean anything.”

Ginna shook her head. “No,” she whispered. “I mean, like you
really
knew them before. Like you were real close sometime, but you can’t remember where or when.”

“Hey, if we’re talking carnal knowledge here, I promise you, I’d remember. You
do
need some time off, hon. Or maybe you’re just so taken with this guy that you
wish
you knew him that well. I’ve had that happen too.” She laughed and her gray eyes twinkled. “When you fall in love, you feel real jealous of all the people who knew your fellow back before you met him, even as far back as when he was a kid. I know that feeling. That’s the way it was when I met my Joe, God rest him.”

Ginna thought about that for a moment. “No. That’s not what I mean either. I don’t know. It’s real strange. It’s like I’ve known him forever, but I can’t quite place him.” She paused and laughed. “I sound crazy as a bedbug. Don’t mind me.”

“What you sound like to me is somebody falling in love.”

“Oh, sure, right! Like a few minutes one afternoon with Neal Frazier and suddenly—
boom!—
I’m a changed woman—not even Ginna Jones, any longer.”

“Hey, don’t laugh! Stranger things have happened. And it wouldn’t hurt you a bit to have a little romance in your life, Ginna.”

Six bikers sauntered in, the first of the breakfast crowd, and the women stopped talking to get to work. It was practically nonstop all day. By the time Ginna’s shift was over at five, she was dead on her feet The rest of the week wasn’t much different. Maybe Lucille was right. Maybe they did need more help at the Rebel Yell.