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I stared in a mirror that had known only Kitty's kind of beauty, and felt so pretty now that my face had healed and there were no scars. And my hair shone as it never had before. Cal was kind and good to me. Cal liked me, and that proved there were men who could like me, even if Pa didn't. Cal was going to help me find Tom, Keith, Our Jane. Hope . . . I had hope . . a soaring kind of hope.
In the long run, it would all work out for the best. I was going to have my own bedroom with brand-new furniture, new blankets, real pillows--oh, glory day, who'd ever have dreamed Cal could be like a real father! Why, I could even see Tom smiling as I ran down the stairs, to see the first movie of my life.
My own father had refused to love me, but that didn't hurt so much now that I had a new and better father.
fourteen WHEN THERE'S MUSIC
. CAL'S HAM, LETTUCE, AND TOMATO SANDWICHES WERE delicious. And when he held the new blue coat for my arms to slip into, I said, "I can keep my head low so people won't notice I'm not really your daughter."
He shook his head sadly and didn't laugh. "No. You hold your head high, feel proud. You have nothing to be ashamed of, and I'm proud to escort you to your first movie." His hands rested lightly on my shoulders. "I hope to God Kitty will never do anything to spoil your face."
There was so much he left unsaid as we both just stood there, caught in the mire of what Kitty was, and what Kitty could do. He sighed heavily, caught hold of my arm, and guided me toward the garage. "Heaven, if ever Kitty is unnecessarily hard on you, I want you to tell me. I love her very much, but I don't want her to harm you, physically or emotionally. I have to admit she can do both. Never be afraid to come to me for help when you need it."
He made me feel good, made me feel that at last I had the right kind of father. I turned around and smiled; he flushed and quickly looked away. Why would my smile make him embarrassed?
All the way to the furniture store I sat proudly beside him, filled with happy anticipation to have so much pleasure in one day, new furniture and a movie. All of a sudden Cal changed from sad to lighthearted, guiding me by my elbow when we entered the store full of so many different types of bedroom sets I couldn't decide. The salesman looked from me to Cal, pondering, so it seemed, our relationship. "My daughter," Cal said proudly. "She'll choose what she likes." The trouble was, I liked it all, and in the end it was Cal who chose what he considered appropriate for me. "This bed, that dresser, and that desk," he ordered, "the ones that aren't too girlish and will see you through to your twenties and beyond."
A small flutter of panic stirred in my chest --I wouldn't be with him and Kitty when I was in my twenties, I'd be with my brothers and my sisters, in Boston. I tried to whisper this when the salesman stepped away. "No," Cal denied, "we have to plan for the future as if we know what it is; to do otherwise cancels out the present and makes it meaningless."
I didn't understand what he meant by that, except I liked the feeling that he wanted me permanently in his life. Just thinking of how pretty my room was going to look must have put stars in my eyes. "You look so pretty--like someone just plu: led in your cord of happiness."
"I'm thinking of Fanny in Reverend Wise's house. Now have a room as nice as hers must be."
Just for saying that he bought a bedside table and a lamp with a fat blue base. "And two drawers in the table that lock, in case you have secrets. . ."
Strange how close this shopping expedition made us, as if creating a pretty room together gave us a special bond. "What movie are we going to see?" I asked when we were back in the car.
Again he was staring at me with that quizzical, self-mocking look fleeting through his golden-brown eyes. "If I were you, I shouldn't think it would matter."
"Not to me, but it must to you."
"You'll see." He'd say nothing more.
It was exciting driving to the movie theater, seeing all the crowds on the street. So much better than it had been with Kitty to spoil the fun with the tensions she caused. I'd never been inside a theater before. I was trembling with excitement, seeing so many people all in one place, all spending money as if they had barrels of it. Cal bought popcorn, cola drinks, two candy bars, and only then did we settle down side by side in the near dark. I'd never thought it would be this dark in a movie theater.
My eyes widened when the colorful picture began with the woman on the mountaintop singing. The Sound of Music! Why, this was a movie that Logan had wanted to see withme. I couldn't feel unhappy about that, not when Cal was sharing the single big box of buttery, salty popcorn. It was hot, and I couldn't eat enough. Occasionally we'd both reach into the box at the same time. To sit there, to eat and drink and feast my eyes on the beauty of the movie, filled me with so much delight I felt as if I were living in a picture book with sound, movement, dancing, and singing. Oh, truly this had to be the most exhilarating day of my entire life.
On and on I sat spellbound, my heart bursting with happiness, a kind of magic enveloping me so I felt I was in that movie. The children were Tom, Fanny, Keith, and Our Jane . . . and me. That's the way we should have been, and I wouldn't have cared at all if Pa had blown a whistle, and hired a nun to tutor us. Oh, if only my brothers and sisters could be here with us!
After the movie Cal drove me to an elegant restaurant called the Midnight Sun. A waiter pulled out my chair and waited for me to sit, and all the time Cal was smiling at me. I didn't know what to do when the waiter handed me a menu, except to stare at him in a helpless way. All of a sudden I was inundated with need for Tom, for Our Jane, for Keith and Grandpa, so much so I was near tears. . . but he wasn't seeing that. Cal was seeing something beautiful written on my face, as if my very youth and inexperience made him feel ten times more a man than Kitty did. "If you'll trust me, I'll order for both of us. But first tell me which you like most. Veal, beef, seafood, lamb, chicken, duck, what?"
Images of Miss Deale came again, she in her pretty magenta suit, smiling, appearing so proud to have us . . when nobody else wanted to know we existed. I thought of her gifts--had they ever arrived? Were they back there on the porch of the cabin, with no one there to wear the clothes? Eat the food?
"Heaven, what meat do you want?"
Oh, my God . . . how did I know? I frowned, concentrating on the complicated menu. I'd had roast beef when Miss Deale took us to a restaurant not nearly as fine as this one.
"Try something you've always wanted to eat and never have," Cal softly prompted.
"Well," I mused aloud, "I've had fish caught in the river near the cabin--had pork--eaten many a chicken and had roast beef once, and it was really good, but I guess I'll have something brand-new--you choose it."
He laughed and ordered salad and veal cordon bleu, for two. "Children in France grow up on wine, but I guess we'll wait a few years before you try that." He'd encouraged me to order escargot, and only after I had finished my six did he explain that they were snails in hot garlic butter, and the bit of French bread I was using to sop up the delicious sauce hesitated in my hand that was suddenly trembling.
"Snails?" I asked, feeling queasy, sure he was teasing me. "Nobody, even the dumbest hill folks, eats things as nasty as snails."
"Heaven," he said with a warm smile in his eyes, "it's going to be fun teaching you about the world. Just don't say anything about this to my wife. She's stingy about restaurants, thinks they charge too much. Do you realize that since the day I married her we have not once eaten out except in fast-food joints? Kitty just d
oesn't appreciate gourmet cooking, and doesn't really understand what it is. She thinks she does. If she spends half an hour preparing a meal, she thinks that's gourmet food. Haven't you noticed how fast she puts a meal together? That's because she refuses to tackle anything complicated. Warm-up food, I call what she cooks."
