Rebecca & Heart

by Deanna K. Klingel

  He doesn’t know the reason Rebecca doesn’t come is because the head mistress made an exciting announcement at breakfast. Her voice was giddy with joy.

  “A man and woman from the city who made a visit to Somewhere Else have invited Rebecca to their home to live with them,” she announces. “Let’s be happy for Rebecca.”

  I hang to the underside of the serving table. The girls clap their hands slowly without much happiness.

  “Her? Why her? Why not me? I’m prettier.”

  “I’m smarter.”

  “It’s not fair. She’s odd!”

  “Why would they want her?”

  Instead of shelling peas, Rebecca has to wash herself, launder her few belongings, and pack them into a big box she found in the garbage dump. The man and woman would come for her tomorrow. She misses seeing her new shaggy friend.

  She can’t sleep. She’s both frightened and excited. What would they do with her when they no longer wanted her? What if there were no peas to shell? Would there be other girls who would touch her or laugh at her? Would they like her? Would they find her odd? Would they want a girl who was odd? Could she come back here if she wanted to? She mumbles all this to herself under her cover.

  I can understand her anxieties, can’t you? Who isn’t afraid of the unknown?

  Chapter 4

  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.

  Chapter 5

  Family

  After what seems a very long drive, Rebecca and I wake up. We notice we are in a large city. There are wagons, and horses, and other motor cars. People are walking and several are pointing at our nice motor car.

  Rebecca is very interested in the people walking their creatures on ropes. I’m quite certain she’d never seen such a creature before Heart. She looks worried. She wonders if this is where these creatures live. Maybe she’s afraid he’ll want to live with them. The thought crosses my mind, as well. I’m happy he’s in the box where he can’t see his kin.

  Our motor car travels through the busy city and eventually arrives in a quieter, greener neighborhood of large houses, shady trees, and gardens full of flowers. This is to be our new home. Rebecca trembles. I hang near the motor car door for a quick escape. Heart is wonderful at keeping still inside the box.

  The man lugs the box into the big brick house and up the stairs behind the woman who tries to pull Rebecca by the hand. Rebecca yanks her hand back. I fly excited circles up the stair way.

  The woman chatters anxiously about many things, none of which make any sense to Rebecca. Rebecca’s knowledge of the world outside the orphanage is more limited than mine. She has no wings. The girl’s not been around, at all, at all.

  “Here!” the woman says proudly, opening a polished wooden door. “This is your room.”

  I fly into the large room and rest on the canopy of the four-poster bed. It’s covered in lavender ruffles. Piles of pillows make a heap on the bed. Rebecca stares. On the lavender-papered walls, a gallery of pretty pictures hangs in frames. The floor, also lavender, is soft as grass. There are flowers in vases, dolls in a dollhouse, and books on a shelf.

  Rebecca looks bewildered. She looks toward the woman without making eye contact, cocks her head inquiringly, and stares at the wall beyond.

  “Yes, all for you.”

  Rebecca looks around in confusion. I understand how she must feel. She doesn’t sleep in a bed, but on a cot. She doesn’t sleep in a room with one bed, alone. A room full of cots and girls is all she knows. What is she to do with all these things? Won’t she be in class and then busy shelling peas or dusting rooms or scrubbing floors? Nothing looks familiar to poor Rebecca. She doesn’t like change.

  Now me, I’m a bit more flexible, and I’ve been around more. I think it’s a fine looking room.

  The woman takes Rebecca’s hand. She pulls it away. The man lays his hand on her shoulder. She shrugs it off, making a growling noise.

  “This is your new home,” they both tell her.

  “We’ll take good care of you. You can go to school and learn to read. You’ll have a good life. We love you, Rebecca.”

  They have to learn not to look at her. I can see she wishes they’d stop looking at her and be quiet. She’s afraid they’ll try to touch her again. With her head down she peers at them from the corners of her eyes.

  They are probably the cleanest, shiniest people Rebecca and I have ever seen. They look new. They smile with white shiny teeth. Their hands are soft and their fingernails clean. Their clothes fit them well. They match each other, like a set of salt and pepper shakers. No wonder Rebecca is anxious. It’s all so strange!

  The man says, “We’ll be your mother and your father, and you’ll be our daughter. No matter what, Rebecca, the three of us are a family.”

  “Three?” Rebecca shrieks.

  “No,” her head says frantically. “Not odd!” She holds up four fingers.

  “Four.” She opens the box. Happy Heart leaps out.

  The mother screams and falls backward over the doll house. Tiny tea cups clatter and scatter.

  “What in the world?” yells the father.

  “Wild dog! Wild dog!”

  I buzz up to the curtain rod for a ringside seat. The father grabs Rebecca and holds tight to try to protect her from the beast. She fights to be free, gurgling and grunting.

  The mother hollers for Butler.

  Heart has no idea what the man’s mouth is saying. He hears his body saying ‘Danger,’ and he knows he must escape.

  I can reassure you that Heart has been yelled at and chased many times in his life and he is clever at escape.

  He dives under the bed pulling the lavender coverlet off behind him. He scurries out the other side and flees through the open door.

  I zip out after him. “Right over you, Heart,” I shout. “Air support! Follow me.”

  We see a hallway and dash down it. Heart bolts down the big staircase two steps at a time. His tail thumps clumsily behind him. I scarcely keep up with him. He charges through the first door he comes to and slides across a slippery floor. He crashes into a cabinet. Fresh fruit rains down upon him.

  I’d like to rest on the bruised pears, but Heart needs me. He ducks under the table and finds himself surrounded by chair legs. He scrambles out and whips through the next door he sees. The father and Butler are still on our tails, waving and yelling about wild curs, rabid dogs, and monsters. Really, I think that’s a bit much, don’t you?

  Heart races
into a good-smelling room where people are busily moving around. I recognize my favorite room, a kitchen. I see a resting spot on the top of a pantry and pause to catch my breath.

  Heart dodges a lot of startled people. He leaps over a bundle of onions and lands in a bin of flour. A white cloud of flour dust bursts over the cupboards. Glad I wasn’t right over him when that happened! A door opens. He races through it, flattening the person coming in, who turns and hollers after him, waving a broom.

  “Mad dog! Wild cur! Look out! Get him!”

  White floury paw prints follow Heart everywhere he runs. Another hallway, another door, more upset people, and finally he’s outside. He lunges for cover under a large bush, panting. My many eyes see his heart pounding in his chest and the fear in his eyes.

  Confused, exhausted, and very hungry, he curls his tail around himself and lies panting on his paws, his eyes on the door. I am ready to pass out from the excitement.

  Well, at least being hungry and sleeping in the bushes is something familiar to Heart. When darkness comes he’ll find a good garbage dump and get a decent meal. I may go with him. It’s been a long day. Heart sighs deeply and closes his eyes. Before long I hear his gentle snoring.

  I hopscotch my way back across the yard and up to the open window upstairs. Rebecca is having a bath. The mother and Cook hold her down in the large porcelain tub with mountains of terrifying soap bubbles floating on the water. My brakes go into a skid and I nearly wreck before taking a softer landing on a pile of towels. Rebecca screams, squirms, struggles, and fights to be free. They scrub, buff, polish, powder, trim and brush.

  The terrified girl groans and growls. At last she lies quietly wearing a soft nightgown in her new big bed. Her clean, wet hair is in braids and she smells like powder. Her new doll lies beside her on the pillow. She doesn’t touch it. The doll’s eyes are closed; hers aren’t. She wasn’t hungry at dinner, but now her stomach growls. At least, being hungry in bed is something familiar to Rebecca.