CHAPTER FOUR - THE HEATHER AND THE ORCHID

 Roasting coffee. It is the first thing that Elizabeth smells as soon as she walks from the stairs into the small kitchen. There, she sees her mother, pacing around the room. Her mother moves like the wind— without stopping for a moment, even to look at Elizabeth standing there at the threshold. She wants to speak, but she is afraid her mother won’t hear her. She walks to the old table that they use as a dining table and sits, looking out the window. Elizabeth wishes it were sunny this morning, but it isn’t. There is an overcast that hangs over their property like a depressed soul. Is it going to rain? She hopes not. She is planning on going to the mansion today.

She can’t help it anymore. The mystery and the curious nature of the home is beginning to stay in her mind. She knows its an obsession and a thought that needs to be sedated, or she fears she’ll lose her mind completely.

“I didn’t see you come in,” her mother says, finally aware of her daughter.

Elizabeth turns. “Yeah, I’ve been here for a minute or so.”

When can I make my way out of here? After breakfast? No. Too soon. Ma’ll notice and then I’ll probably lose my life.

“Got biscuits in the oven. I know ya like those. They’re buttermilk. Yer fav’rite.”

Her stomach thunders and she puts her hand against it. “Sounds great!” She forces a smile, then looks out the window again. “Say, why don’t I—”

“I know what yer about to say, young lady. And no. No going outside. Only unless it’s on the property.”

“Ma, I was only gonna ask if I can have some coffee.”

“Are ya kiddin’ me?” Her mother laughs, shaking her head. “Yer too young for coffee. It’ll getcha too hyped up.”

She sinks. “But Pa always gave me a cup…”

“I ain’t yer pa.” Her eyes are dark, serious.

“Please? Just one.”

She shakes her head and puts a firm fist on the table, causing it to resonate. Elizabeth scoots herself back and looks at her mother with eyes wide open. Her mouth is agape.

“Sorry, Ma. I won’t ask again.”

I guess getting out of here is going to be harder than I thought, but I’m going to do it anyway. I have to. I can’t take it anymore.

  

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       She does not know if her mother notices her opening the front door ever so softly, but she closes it behind her and walks out towards the road. Dashing, her heart thunders as she tries to be unnoticed. Soon, her feet have a syncopated rhythm. Every motion she makes has intent as she keeps her eyes ahead. She can’t wait to see the mansion and hopes that Mr. Guillory won’t be there to interrupt her.906Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡoOQtBHFqiW
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 Elizabeth passes the row of homes that she’s begun to grow even more familiar with. The little old ladies like to gather together on each other’s porches every weekend and indulge in the gossip about the town. As they notice Elizabeth, they wave at her and she reciprocates the gesture. She knows they are talking about her, though. She can see it in the way their eyes are following her every move. A part of her feels that her mother is in the crowd, watching her wth eyes like a hawk. But Elizabeth chooses to ignore it.

When the homes are out of sight, she feels a sense of freedom. She feels as if she is flying as her speed picks up. But then she notices a few daisies on the sidewalk. She must stop. Smiling, she kneels down and begins to pick them. They are as pure and white as Mr. Guillory’s Celie. She picks a few, sitting on the ground, not caring if her dress becomes filthy as a result. Elizabeth begins to link the stems together in order to make a crown. When she is done, she puts the string of daisies atop her head and stands up. A crown of daisies for her father. A crown of daisies for herself. She smiles, feeling closer to her father than ever before.

She is not paying any more attention to what is in front of her, instead, she escapes into her world of her father and deep thoughts. She collides against something—or someone. Stepping back, she looks directly into the eyes of someone she recognizes. It is the same boy from church last Sunday. He stands with a younger boy, who also looks at Elizabeth. His eyes are more inquisitive than the older boy. The older boy looks at her with narrowed eyes. Elizabeth does not look at him directly, rather beyond his shoulder.

“Watch where yer goin’.” He says, crossing his arms against his chest. “Why ya wearin’ flowers on yer head?”

Elizabeth says, now looking directly at him. “’Cause I feel like it. That’s why.”

“Ah…”

“I like it,” the younger boy says. “Daisies are pretty.”

“Oh come on, Sam.” He scoffs. “Daisies are for girls. You ain’t no girl.”

Sam hangs his head and shuffles his feet. “Aw Luke…I just thought I’d pay her a compliment.”

“Well come on. We gotta go home before Mama chides us for bein’ late.”

Elizabeth walks away and doesn’t turn to look back at the two boys.

“Where ya goin’?”

It is the older boy’s voice. Luke’s. Elizabeth turns around and says, “Ain’t none ya business where I’m goin.’”

“Girl like you shouldn’t be goin’ around alone.”

“Oh come on,” she says. “This place is safe. No baddies around here.”

He shakes his head. “That’s what you think.”

Elizabeth chooses to ignore them and walks away, but she hears their footsteps behind her. Instead of fading away like they should be, they are approaching closer. She turns around again and asks, “What?”

“Like I said, girls shouldn’t be walkin’ alone.”

She shakes her head and doesn’t respond to him. She resumes walking, but this time her pace is faster.

“Wait for us!” Sam says. “Wait for us!”

“Fine,” Elizabeth says, realizing that they are not going to stop following her. “Luke.” She narrows her eyes.

They pass another string of homes, ones that are nicer than the homes of the older ladies. Elizabeth likes to look at these. There is one home, a lovely purple home, that has a beautiful flower garden in the front yard. There, in the middle of a garden of dark purple orchids, is a pregnant woman. Elizabeth looks at her, the way she flows as she moves. It is as if she is one with the orchids. The woman notices their presence and waves at all three.

“Hello, Luke! Hello, Sam! And you, I don’t know, but hello!”

Elizabeth loves the warm, honeyed overtones in her voice. Everything about her is purple and a brilliant white. She is a true Southern Belle — in every meaning of the word.

“Hello Mrs. Frechou,” Luke says with a single wave.

The woman waddles closer to the fence. As Elizabeth is getting a closer look now, she sees that the woman is due perhaps any day now.

“And who are you?” she asks, smiling as she looks at Elizabeth.

“My name is Elizabeth, ma’am. But please call me Beth. I prefer it.”

“Well aren’t you just darlin’ with those daisies in your hair? You look like a natural princess.”

Elizabeth gushes. She loves the compliment especially after that Luke fellow had insulted the fact that she has daisies in her hair. But memories of her father came flooding back into her mind.

“Thank you, ma’am. My Pa always used to make daisy crowns for me. He was a great gardener and farmer.”

Her eyes soften as her face falls. “Was?”

“Yes.” The lump is rising in Elizabeth’s throat. “He died earlier this year, ma’am. Right before we moved here…”

Her shoulders slump. “I truly am sorry.”

Elizabeth says nothing in response. She only looks at the woman with a smile on her face. It is the only thing that she can do. She doesn’t want to create an emotional, heartbreaking scene in front of complete strangers, for that is what these people are to her.

“We’ll best be goin’, now Mrs. Frechou. Have a nice day.” Luke waves and begins to walk away.

Elizabeth says nothing to the boys that keep following her.

“Seriously… Beth,” Luke says. “Where are ya goin’? Home?”

“I ain’t tellin.’ Go on home. I just wanna be alone.”

“Me and Sam ain’t leavin’ you alone. Tell us where yer goin’.”

Elizabeth shakes her head and resumes walking. Elizabeth and Luke are silent, but Sam is humming a tune. Elizabeth turns around and asks, “Whatcha hummin’?”

“My Ma’s fav’rite song. It’s—”

“Heather.”

“Yeah. How’d ya know?”

“Ma’s fav’rite too. She always sings it…”

Heather… It is such a beautiful melody. About finding solitude in hard times. Yeah, that’s prolly why it’s his Ma’s fav’rite too. We all need our solitude…

Elizabeth sees the mansion in the distance. She smiles and runs toward it, the big house never leaving her sight. She doesn’t care if the boys are followin her any longer. The only thing she wants is to go inside, regardless of who will try to stop her. Seconds turn to minutes and minutes turn into what seems like ages. When she finally stands in front of the gate, she gasps, panting. She wipes the beads of sweat that glisten on her forehead. She turns around to see Luke and Sam walking towards her.

Luke shakes his head and asks, “What do ya think yer doin’ here?”

“I’m gonna go in.” Elizabeth’s eyes narrow.

“Oh no you ain’t. Ya ain’t gonna go in there.”

She scoffs. “And why not?”

She turns around. The darkness looms all around this home. But there is something about this mansion that speaks to her.

She turns to look at Luke — his face is white and his eyes are big like saucers. “Because this dark place is not safe for girls like you.”

“Not safe? How?”

He shivers. “Crazy man lives in there.”

So someone does live in there. She smiles. “All the more reason to go in.”

“No!” he practically shouts. “There’s a crazy man in there. We’ve seen him ourselves. He’s crazy, crazy, crazy!”

“I don’t care. I think yer lyin’.”

“I ain’t lyin. I’ve seen him with my own eyes.” He shakes his head. “Yer not gonna take my warnin. Don’t say I didn’t warn ya. Come on Sam, let’s go to Mama. She’s gonna want us home now.”

Elizabeth begins to open the gate slowly, not caring what the two boys are doing. “I ain’t goin’, Luke. I’m gonna stay with her. I wanna see what’s inside.”

Luke’s shoulder slump. “The crazy man’s gonna getcha. He’s gonna getcha both. And then yer gonna be sorry. I’ve heard stories about this man. He’s hurt lotsa folks. I even heard that he hurt a little kid who was doin’ the same thing yer doin’ just cause he touched a lamp. A lamp! Do you wanna get hurt? Both of ya? What are you two thinkin’?”

“There’s no sense in not goin’ in now,” Elizabeth says, crossing her arms against her chest. “I came all the way over here. And I’m gonna go in whether you like it or not. I don’t even know you both. Yer practically strangers to me. Don’tcha think that I might think that yer lyin’ to me, just so that I can’t go in? Mr. Guillory doesn’t want me in here either.”

“Cause Mr. Guillory knows! He knows about the crazy man… He knows all about the crazy man… Don’t be a rebel. You look like the kind of girl that’s a mama’s prize. You want yer mama to be cryin’ over yer death?”

“My mama doesn’t cry over me. She never will.”

She cries over David.

“Well, then… I suppose yer mama won’t want ya to leave yer home.”

“I’m goin’ in.”

The gate is opened fully by Elizabeth. Luke stares at her and shakes his head. “I told ya… Don’t say you weren’t warned. Sam, you ain’t goin’ in. Yer stayin’ right here with me.”

“I suppose you two’ll be here when I come out?”

“No.” Luke shakes his head. “Good luck, then. I can’t get anything through yer thick head.”

Elizabeth grimaces and puts her first in the air. “Why I oughta…” But her words trail off. “Never mind. I’m goin’ in.”

She turns around and takes a deep breath as she walks towards the dilapidated steps. Her heart thunders as she inches her way towards the front door. She turns around, seeing that Luke and his brother are still standing there, watching her. Sam is leaning against the picket fence, his eyes full of just as much curiosity as Elizabeth. But Luke, Luke is frowning. Or at least it looks like he is frowning from where she is standing.

Elizabeth turns around one more time and opens the door, which to her honest surprise, is unlocked. It makes a sound like a dying old man as it opens and her heart skips a beat. What if the so-called crazy man hears her come in? What will become of her?