I took his advice, but I didn’t mind whenever Mrs. Winston went on about one of her prize antiques. It brought the big house to life by giving the furniture and the artifacts their own histories, even their own personalities. This was the grouchy chair, because Sir Isaac Caldwell, from whom it could be traced, suffered gout and took out his unhappiness on his wife and children, for example. Mrs. Winston had the letters or diaries to prove it, as she could prove that the Windsor chair in the den once belonged to William Smith, Abigail Adams’s father. Like pedigreed dogs, practically everything in the old house had papers to authenticate it.
Maybe I was living in a museum, but there was a warmth to it. I appreciated what Mrs. Winston said about modern homes being way stations, “as temporary for the families living in them as were mass-produced modular houses.” That was, after all, how I had lived and how I would have continued to live. Putting down roots anywhere for too long was not something we could do.
Was I being a silly Pollyanna, dreaming of having a life in that small city and eventually meeting someone I could love and with whom I could even have children? I could almost hear Ava laughing at the very thought and see Daddy shaking his head in pity. Would I ever forget Mrs. Fennel’s look of rage on that horrible final day? Sometimes, even now, I would stop whatever I was doing and stare at my wall of memories and think again about just packing up quietly and sneaking off in the night.
But I didn’t, and I woke on Saturday morning full of both anticipation and anxiety about my date with Julia. This would be my first night out with anyone besides Ava and Buddy.
Jim had to go get his car from the auto-body repair shop that morning. He asked me to go with him and have lunch with him, but I told him I was just going to do a little shopping nearby and wash clothes. I made sure he knew that I was going out in the evening with Julia Dolan, too.
“I don’t blame you for not wanting to ride in a car with me again,” he said bitterly. “Or even wanting to be seen with me.”
He was referring to his lingering bruises, which were healing well but remained like large spots of measles on his cheeks, chin, and forehead. I could just imagine how the girls in his classes would react when he returned on Monday. No one had to tell me how cruel teenage girls could be. They’d giggle behind his back and come up with derogatory names for him.
“That has nothing to do with it,” I told him.
The Ava in me made my face flush with impatience and annoyance. Jim was the first man I’d known who was so whiny and meek. If Ava or Brianna had brought him home to Daddy, I was sure he’d have turned him out. Lust and virility were two ingredients in the blood he sought. Ava, in one of her moods of sick humor, had told me, “You don’t bring meat loaf home to Daddy; you bring filet mignon, or you don’t bring anything.”
“Nothing happened to me, Jim. It was a freak accident. I’m not afraid to ride in your car again, and I’m not worried about being seen with someone who’s recovering from injuries. Don’t be ridiculous,” I said more forcefully.
“I’m sorry. I just thought . . . okay. Maybe I’ll see you before you go out tonight,” he followed, and then hurried off to get his car. I’m sure my indignant look put fire in my eyes such as he had never seen.
I actually did what I had told Jim I was going to do, shopping at the small mall nearby and then washing clothes. Later, I spent a lot of time on my hair and makeup for the first time since I had arrived. I remembered how much attention Ava would give to her appearance, no matter what she was doing or where she was going. It was as if there were cameras turned on her the moment she would step out of our house. I had been just a little girl then. Sometimes I would sit in her room and watch her work on her hair and makeup. She had taught me a great deal about how to enhance my appearance, passing along her special beauty tips as if they were ancestral secrets that had been handed down for generations, if not centuries.
“Are you looking to attract someone special?” I had asked her. Her eyes had flamed as if I had criticized her for spending so much time on her appearance.
“I don’t make myself beautiful for someone else,” she’d snapped. “Women like us need to look good for ourselves. It pleases us, gives us confidence, and makes us feel worthy of our name and our heritage. You will do exactly what I do when your time comes. It will become second nature, part of who and what you are.”
She had calmed and continued to brush her hair, looking at herself in the mirror as she spoke to me.
“For us, being beautiful is being alive. We treat it the way the ordinary treat their health or are supposed to treat their health. Our beauty makes us healthy.”
“Will I be as beautiful as you, Ava?”
She had stopped and looked at me with as much love and affection for me as she was capable of showing. “In your way, you will be. None of us is more beautiful than the other. We’re each special in some way. Your way will come.”
I had no doubt that mine had. I couldn’t describe it exactly, but there was something exotic about me, something that would make me both exciting and attractive. I wasn’t as obviously sexy as Ava, but I was very sexy. What would I do with this power now that I was no longer one of Daddy’s daughters of darkness? At least, I hoped I was not. Only time would tell if it was something I could turn off.
I had made it clear to everyone in my new home that I wasn’t looking for any romance, not even for a good-time onetime date, and yet, just as Ava had predicted, it was important to me, to my well-being, that I look as beautiful as possible. Obviously, Ava had been right about this. I just hoped she hadn’t been right about everything else. I pushed it all out of my mind before I left my room and descended to wait for Julia Dolan.
Jim and Mr. Brady were in the living room. They heard Mrs. Winston and Mrs. McGruder complimenting me on my hair, and both came hurrying out to see.
“You look great,” Jim said.
“Very beautiful, my dear,” Mr. Brady said. “I’ve taken note of how perfect your teeth are, by the way. Are you using anything special to keep them that white, because I have a new product . . .”
“No, nothing special. I’ve always had good teeth.”
“No cavities?”
“No,” I s
aid, smiling.
“I have about a dozen,” Jim said. “Ate too much candy when I was a teenager.”
“You know, we have this new mechanical toothbrush I mentioned,” Mr. Brady told him. “I can give it to you wholesale.”
Jim nodded but kept his eyes on me. His obvious longing made me uncomfortable. I was happy when Julia Dolan opened the front door. She was right on time. I thought she looked very pretty, too.