Читать книгу Rebecca & Heart - Deanna K. Klingel - Страница 10

Rebecca hugs herself and rocks herself to sleep, only to awaken and try again to fall asleep. I pace the wall worrying for her. I know her fears are real. It was a long night and an early morning for both of us.

I spend part of the morning on the head mistress’s file cabinet in her office. I witness the signing of the papers.

I’ll bet the man and the woman in the city who sign the papers to adopt Rebecca, also had trouble sleeping last night. They are excited to finally have the daughter they’d dreamed of.

“Rebecca isn’t a demanding child, requires little and wants mostly to be left alone,” the head mistress tells them. “She might be, well, a wee bit…uh…unique; perhaps a little different.”

“I think she’s just shy,” the woman says.

“We’ll get her over such shyness. After all, we do belong to the best social class in the city. Exposure to such gentility will certainly make her more poised,” the man says. “She’ll be inspired to want success.”

“She’ll attend the finest schools and have piano lessons. I’ll brush her hair and put it up with ribbons. She won’t be odd anymore,” the woman says.

The head mistress doesn’t say anything. She just hurries the signing along.

“Uh oh uh oh uh oh” buzzes in and out of my brain.

Teacher, Miss Cullen, tells them she believes Rebecca can learn and maybe knows a lot already.

“Private tutoring is more suitable for her than a crowded or noisy classroom,” she says.

I agree. But, what I think doesn’t really matter.

“We can provide the best private schools and the best private tutors that money can buy,” they assure Teacher. “We’re confident Rebecca will reach her full potential in no time.” The teacher doesn’t seem so sure about that.

“She’ll probably be the brightest girl in the school!” the woman exclaims.

“Yes, I think she might be,” Teacher agrees. “She’s very, very bright. She’s also…different…special. Her needs are…different.”

“We’ve a large elegant home and money to buy whatever we want. We’re so happy to be able to help a poor orphan and at the same time adopt the daughter of our dreams. We’ve prepared a beautiful room for her. But of course, we’re anxious and nervous. We hope she’ll learn to love us. We know we will love her.”

Well, I think that’s touching. I hope they won’t be disappointed in my friend Rebecca, who isn’t like most daughters, who want to hug and fix hair, giggle, and go to parties. There are things money can’t buy. Maybe they don’t know that. I pace the wall most of the night and by morning I am totally exhausted. I see Rebecca has dark rings under her eyes. I’m sure at least 100 of my eyes do, too.

After breakfast porridge Rebecca carries her mostly- empty box packed with all her things, to the back step and sits down to wait. I do my morning exercises on the screen door. I don’t have much energy after my restless night; my wings are really dragging. I go in search of an unattended cup of coffee sitting about. In a minute or two, the bushes rustle. Rebecca is so happy she runs to the wet, muddy creature and throws her arms around him. Startled and frightened, he barks and jumps, knocking her to the ground. He retreats under the bushes.

I think she understands because she doesn’t like to be startled either. But, I think she’s surprised at her own feeling of happiness at seeing him. Happy is a strange new way for Rebecca to feel. What had the girl ever had to be happy about before, after all?

She sits down on the step, sways, and waits for her friend to return. Invigorated by the coffee, I creep up the side of Rebecca’s box to wait with her.

The creature peers out at her, unseen from the bushes. I notice him, with my gift of multiple eyes. He feels her sadness vibrating through the air, and understands. It’s the same way he felt yesterday when she wasn’t on her step. He wanted her to come back and be with him. And I can see the sad little girl really wants him to be there with her now.

At this moment he seems to know they are going to be a pack of two. Rebecca at the same moment realizes she’s no longer the odd one, the single one. Now she’s part of a pair. Two. Even. Her mind begins to relax. She is even at last.

I zig zag up the wall and sigh contentedly on their behalf. Everyone should have a friend. Everyone should be part of a pair. No one should be odd; one; alone. Don’t you think so?

She puts her hand out and he comes to her. She points at him and then makes a sign across her heart. She repeats it a few times. The creature hears her hand say, ‘You are my heart.’ So now, he has a name. His name is Heart. She makes the sign for his name, then her sign for sit. Heart hears the hand say ‘Heart, sit.’ So he does.

Rebecca is overjoyed that he can hear what her hand is saying. No one ever listened to her hands before. They hadn’t noticed her hands were trying to tell them anything.

But her new friend, who doesn’t use words either, who watches her carefully, hears her hands. And Rebecca, because she watches her friend, hears what he says to her with his eyes and the way he holds his ears.

Heart is delighted to be spoken to without the confusion of words in a language he doesn’t understand. Rebecca is happy to be spoken to silently with looks, glances, and body language. I feel so happy for them I flick my wings with joy, a little body language of my own.

It is during the sharing of this happy moment the front door bell clangs. I nearly drop off the box in alarm. Rebecca freezes. They are coming to take her away to her new home.

But, now she no longer wants to go. She has what she’d always wanted, a friend who can hear her, a friend who makes her part of a pair, makes her even. She can’t leave now. She sways. Panic washes over her. I want to shout out to her, “Quick, fly away!” then I remember. She can’t fly.

Heart’s long tongue dangles from his mouth. His whiskers are muddy and wet. He smells like the garbage dump. His head tilts slightly, waiting to see what she wants him to do.

She makes the sign for his name. She tips the box on its side, makes their sign for come, and points into the box. Heart is puzzled; this is something new. But Rebecca, who is used to being misunderstood, patiently tries again.

I can see Heart doesn’t want to get into the box. He’s probably never been in a box before. But the cardigan in the box smells like Rebecca. She really seems to want this. He takes a shy step into the box. Rebecca knows he’s afraid of new things, just as she is. Well, truth be told, aren’t we all a little afraid of new things? She tosses a chunk of breakfast bread she’d saved in her pinafore pocket, into the box.

I can see old Heart thinking this through. ‘If this is where she wants me to go and she’s going to feed me, I’ll give it a go.’

She’s making a funny sign with her hand and it looks like the hand is saying ‘hurry, hurry.’ Heart must think so too, because he hurriedly jumps into the box. I really need to keep all my eyes on things, now.

Rebecca tries to turn the box over, but it’s heavier now, and harder to move. Wish I could help her. Heart shifts his weight and the box tips upright. She slams the box shut and sits on the step quietly waiting. I can hear him in the box of clothes breathing in the scent of Rebecca’s cardigan, and turning in circles preparing to lie down.

It isn’t long before the man and woman come around to the side yard of Somewhere Else. Rebecca keeps her head down, peering from the corners of her eyes. It’s the lady with the big hat and the white gloves who’d interrupted her at the tea table. The man visited before, also. I remember him. He smells like cloves. I don’t know if Rebecca has met him before. I zoom up to the edge of the porch roof out of sight. I know this woman’s type; when it comes to house flies, she takes no captives.

They smile when they see Rebecca, and they hurry toward her. She’s frightened when they grab her and hug her. She frightened poor Heart just a few moments before, doing the same thing.

The man and woman talk at the same time, and I’m sure Rebecca can’t figure out what either is saying. I can’t either. We hear ‘country,’ ‘motor car,’ ‘tea,’ ‘park,’ ‘flowers,’ none of which makes any sense. I buzz loudly and drop to the porch railing. Rebecca covers her ears and starts to sway in small circles, taking herself out of the confusion of words and voices. Heart lies perfectly still inside the box, where I wish I were.

The mistress of Somewhere Else comes to say goodbye. She spots me on the railing and raises her hand with the swatter. I zoom over her head, a narrow escape. The man picks up the box.

“Ugh,” he grunts. “This is very heavy. One wouldn’t expect a waif to have so many belongings.”

“We’ll throw everything in that box into the garbage dump as soon as we get home. She’ll have everything new for her new life,” says the woman.

Uh, oh, I thought. This isn’t going well. Panic washes over Rebecca. She pounds her ears with her hands. ‘No no, I don’t hear that,’ her hands and ears are saying. She sways in larger circles. She looks at her feet, wishing them to move.

“Waif? Waif? What is waif?” Rebecca speaks so softly, I’m sure I’m the only one to hear. “Will this be my new name? Will they call me Waif?”

This isn’t my first ride in a motor car, but I’m sure it’s a first for Rebecca and Heart. When I ride in a motor car, I get very claustrophobic and start banging my head against the window in a pitiful request to open the window and let me out. I think Rebecca is claustrophobic as well. I notice she does the same thing. Heart lies still in the box, probably sleeping. Soon Rebecca is still and closes her eyes. I may as well drop to the floor and nap. The motorcar chugs along.