“I’m so very sad and disappointed about all this,” Mrs. Grissom says. “And here I thought it had been going so well here for all of you.”
“Yes. It’s very sad.” Celine’s voice is toneless. “Extremely disappointing.”
“I’ve been asking a lot of questions on my end since your visit with me on Tuesday, and it seems everyone I’ve talked to agrees,” Mrs. Grissom says, “if what you’re saying is true.”
“I assure you, it’s true.”
“Well then,” Mrs. Grissom says. “We will leave this with those who can help her best.”
“Yes,” Celine replies. “Wait right here. I’ll get her.”
A home for unwed mothers, then. That’s where I’m headed, since apparently no one else will take me the way I am. Seventeen. Orphaned. Pregnant.
At least it will be a home. At least it will be a place where this tiny life inside me will be protected. It scares me a little how much I am already starting to care for it. This child is the only family I have now. Surely some unwed mothers are allowed to keep their babies. Surely some do.
The sound of a lock turning yanks me from this daydream, and the door to my bedroom opens. Celine stands at the doorframe, her gaze on me like arrows.
“Mrs. Grissom is here for you,” she says, and then quickly turns from me.
“Where is she taking me?”
Celine doesn’t turn to me when she answers. Her voice looks an icy blue—like rock crystal. “Where you belong.”
She walks away, back through the kitchen and dining room to the entryway, where Mrs. Grissom waits.
I don’t reach for the bag I packed—Celine has already taken that—but instead for a sweater I placed on the bed next to a maid’s uniform that is no longer mine.
Tears brim in my eyes as I move through the kitchen, and I think of Momma as she lay dying, whispering the words “Be happy, be careful.” I have failed her on both accounts.
I walk to the tiled entry, where Mrs. Grissom stands with my travel bag by her feet. I see her gaze drop to the slight mound at my waist. She frowns and sighs.It’s true, then, the sigh seems to say.The orphan girl kindly taken in by the Calverts let a boy into her bed.
“Come, then, Rosanne,” Mrs. Grissom says, shaking her head. “We’ve somewhere to be.”
I know it’s pointless to apologize, but I turn to Celine anyway.
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Calvert.”
“Good-bye, Rosie,” she says flatly, her words heavy and gray.
“Thank you for doing what you could for her, you and Mr. Calvert.” Mrs. Grissom hands Celine a piece of paper from the top of the clipboard she is carrying. No doubt the record of the Calverts’ relinquishment of me. “The county is grateful.”
“Yes,” Celine says.
I walk out to the passenger side of Mrs. Grissom’s Buick and place my travel bag on the back seat and then get in the front. Celine pulls her front door shut even before I am fully inside the car. Mrs. Grissom starts the engine, and as she eases slowly past the Calverts’ house, I reach with one hand for the necklace at my throat, feeling for my mother’s cloisonné pendant and the little key resting behind it. One is a tether to my past and the other to my future.
I look longingly at the vines as we pass them on the gravel drive, rows and rows of them. I love all the colors of this place, and the chuffing of nearby tractors and the neighbor’s roosters and my father’s whistling. They’d always been such happy sounds, happy colors. Oh, how I will miss them.
As we turn onto the road to Santa Rosa, I reach for my bag and lift it over the seat to make sure all that I put inside it is stillthere: the few items of clothing that still fit me, my worn copy ofThe Secret Garden, the photograph of me and Tommy and my parents, my cigar box full of my savings, the baking soda tin with the amaryllis bulb and the instructions on how to care for it...
It’s all there except for the bundle of Helen Calvert’s letters inside the cigar box. My money is still inside it, but the letters from Truman’s sister are gone.
Before I can even begin to mourn their loss, Mrs. Grissom asks me why of all things I have a dirty old turnip in my travel bag.
I turn to stare at her. “You looked in my bag, too?”
“We had to make sure you weren’t taking anything that wasn’t...” Her voice drifts off.
“Mine?”
