Anthem

by Deborah Wiles

  The Atlanta skyline appeared as they rounded a curve on Interstate 75 and, as if on cue, the rain stopped and the sun came through the clouds. According to An Adventurer’s Guide to Travel across America, Sherman had laid waste to Atlanta during the Civil War and the city had been busy pouring concrete and raising buildings ever since, as the self-proclaimed “Capital of the New South.” It took Molly’s breath away to see it rise up like Oz, the Emerald City. She’d forgotten.

  They used Janice’s handwritten directions to exit the freeway and maneuver the school bus through downtown traffic, into Midtown and along Piedmont Park, to find The Aunts’ house on Fourteenth Street in a neighborhood of stately old homes that had been built just before the Depression. The house had belonged to The Aunts’ brother, Uncle Watkins, who had died before Molly and Norman were born. The Aunts, two sisters who never married, had lived there together on their own ever since.

  Norman parked the bus on the street and turned off the engine. Then he banged his head against the steering wheel. Repeatedly.

  “What are you doing?” Molly asked.

  Norman turned to her. “Are you kidding? That was horrible! I almost hit twelve cars, trying to drive in this city! I counted!”

  “You went over the curb twice,” Molly intoned.

  “Gaaa! You try this!” Norman shouted. “And I get no thanks!”

  “Thanks for not killing me, Norman!”

  They sat in silence for a long moment. It had been a full day capped by a harrowing ride on narrow city streets.

  Molly finally spoke. “You’re doing a good job.”

  Norman took his hands off the giant steering wheel and sighed. “I want off this bus.”

  The house was wide and inviting, with a deep porch supported by four white columns across the front. No one answered the door when they knocked. They tried the doorbell. “Maybe it’s broken,” said Molly.

  “Maybe they’re just so ancient they can’t hear it,” returned Norman. “When’s the last time we were here, anyway?”

  Molly shrugged. She had probably been in elementary school. Her dad and Norman’s were not The Aunts’ favorite nephews. They had pushed to sell the house and move The Aunts to a small place in Charleston after Uncle Watkins died. “Mother’s silver won’t even fit in that house!” Aunt Eleanor had argued. “I am not leaving the family home!” Then she’d shut the door on her nephews.

  “Let me try,” said Molly, just as the front door opened. Slowly. A boy in jeans, with a head full of disheveled brown curls and no shirt or shoes, stood in the doorway rubbing his eyes as if he’d been asleep.

  “It’s unlocked, man.”

  Norman stared in surprise. Did they have the wrong house?

  “Who are you?” he asked.

  But the boy had disappeared and left the door open. Norman stood like a statue staring after him. Molly knew they had the right house. Intruders! was her first thought, then, I should panic! But this was a kid, like her, and he was mostly asleep.

  She tugged on Norman’s sleeve. “Don’t just stand there with your mouth open, Norman! Come on!” She stomped after the boy, leaving Norman on the porch as she called into the house, “Where are my aunts? What have you done with them?”

  A girl’s voice carried from the direction of the kitchen. “Who is it?”

  Norman plucked Aunt Janice’s directions from the pocket of his white oxford button-down shirt — this was the right place, the number was on the house next to the front door. He followed his cousin inside.

  A rich, robust smell — roast beef? — met his nose as he found himself in the kitchen with Molly and a girl with dangling earrings and long black hair who looked to be Norman’s age. She was stirring the contents of a pot on the back of the stove. She wore a bandana and had a ring on every one of her fingers.

  “They’re upstairs getting dressed for dinner,” she was saying casually to Molly. “We’re having beef stew. Did they invite you for supper?” When Norman appeared in the doorway, she cooed, “Hi, handsome.” Suddenly, Norman felt his pulse beating in his ears. It drowned out all other noises.

  “Yes, we were invited,” Molly said. “We’re family. Who are you?”

  The girl rapped her wooden spoon on the top of the pot, laid it across the lip, and looked Molly square in the face. She had brilliant blue eyes. Norman stared at her and swallowed.

  “My name is Lucy,” she announced.

  “Lucy who?”

  “Lucy Inthesky.”

  “Inthesky?” Molly sounded out this strange last name in her head, Inthesky.

  “With Diamonds,” the girl finished.

  Molly’s eyebrows arched in astonishment, then sank to murderous levels. “Are you kidding me?” She put her hands on her hips and leaned in. “Listen, sister …”

  “Oh, brother,” said Norman. He gave his head a brisk shake to break the spell he’d been under. “I’ll go check on them.”

  A warble came from the top of the wide staircase by the front door.

  “Norman! Is that you, dear?”

  Suddenly, Jean-boy was at the bottom of the stairs looking up and buttoning his shirt. He and Norman nearly collided as they called at the same time, “Yes, ma’am!”

  “Oh, good!” Aunt Eleanor called. Or was it Aunt Madeleine?

  Aunt Madeleine came to stand next to Aunt Eleanor. Or was it the other way ‘round? Aunt Eleanor declared, “We’ve got a guest for supper!”

  The sounds of arguing came from the kitchen.

  “Two guests!” said Aunt Most Probably Eleanor. She was doing all the talking. She cocked her arm and hung her pocketbook on the inside of her elbow.

  Aunt Surely It’s Madeleine smiled and smoothed the front of her dress with both hands. She wore stockings and sensible shoes.

  Jean-boy was already halfway up the stairs. At the top he dutifully gave Aunt Madeleine his arm. She clutched it, held the banister with her free hand, and slowly came down to dinner, one step at a time, without saying a word. Jean-boy seated Aunt Madeleine in an armchair in the foyer, where she folded her hands and closed her eyes, waiting with a soft smile on her face. Jean-boy went back for Aunt Eleanor.

  “Thank you, sweet boy,” said Aunt Eleanor, fresh from her afternoon bath and liberally dusted with Cashmere Bouquet powder. She wore cat’s-eye glasses on a beaded chain around her neck. “I always told your father that you were the best-mannered child I’d ever met!”

  By this time a fuming Molly had joined Norman to watch the parade into dinner. The cousins exchanged looks and followed the procession into the dining room, where Lucy In The Sky With Diamonds, wearing hot mitts over her ringed fingers, was busy setting steaming hot bowls of beef stew onto china plates. She swished around to each place setting in a skirt of many colors that almost covered her bare feet. She avoided Molly and smiled wide at Norman. Red heat raced up his pale white face.

  Jean-boy seated Aunt Madeleine at one end of the table, pulling out her chair for her. Molly nudged Norman with her elbow, and he swiftly did the same for Aunt Eleanor at the other end. As she was seated, Aunt Eleanor placed her pocketbook on the table, where it sat for the entire meal.

  “I followed your recipe exactly,” Lucy said to Aunt Eleanor. “I hope you like it!” She cast a hesitant and hopeful look at Molly.

  Molly addressed her aunt directly. “Aunt Eleanor?”

  “Yes, dear?” said Aunt Eleanor as she settled herself in her chair.

  “It’s Molly!”

  “I know, dear,” said Aunt Eleanor. But she didn’t.

  “From Charleston!” said Molly.

  “Yes, of course, dear!” said Aunt Eleanor.

  “And Norman!” said Molly. She had a wild thought and added, “Norman, your numbskull nephew!”

  “Hey!” Norman protested. Then he added, “Hi, Aunt Eleanor.”

  “I’m so glad you children could join us,” said Aunt Eleanor. “Molly and Norman have been visiting from Charleston! Mitch and Lewis’s children! It’s been too long!
We saw Barry not a month ago here, didn’t we, sister? My, how he is all grown up!”

  Molly was quite sure they hadn’t. “Aunt Eleanor!” she said, desperation in her voice.

  “Yes, dear?”

  Molly looked at Norman with do something eyes, and Norman shrugged. She sat on the chair that Jean-boy indicated was hers, since The Aunts’ eyes were now on her. “Never mind,” she said. She put her napkin in her lap.

  Crystal water glasses were half-full and silver spoons rested daintily on cloth napkins beside each bowl of stew. Two extra places had been hastily set.

  Norman retreated to the kitchen to help Lucy bring out stew.

  Jean-boy settled himself across the table from Molly. He picked up Madeleine’s napkin and fluffed it, then placed it in her lap. Madeleine smiled sweetly at Jean-boy. She patted his smooth hand with her wrinkled one. Jean-boy lifted his free hand and captured Madeleine’s old hand between his two young ones.

  Molly gestured at Norman as he returned from the kitchen, but Norman only had eyes for Lucy. Molly cleared her throat, but Norman didn’t notice. She felt a moment of panic. And then resolve. She would fix this. Yes, she would.

  Eleanor lifted both her hands, palms up, to signal the grace. They held hands around the table like it was the most natural thing in the world to do. Heads bowed, even Molly’s.

  “Now thank we all our God, with hearts and hands and voices,” said Aunt Eleanor, her voice strong and sure, even with its warble. “Who wondrous things has done, in whom this world rejoices. Who from our mothers’ arms, has blessed us on our way.”

  Molly looked up to see Norman staring at Aunt Eleanor, whose eyes were scrinched shut and whose hands clasped Molly’s and Lucy’s. “With countless gifts of love, and still is ours today. Amen.”

  A chorus of amens rounded the table. Molly screwed up her courage and once again cleared her throat.

  “And now!” chirped Aunt Eleanor. She smiled warmly at Molly while she tucked her napkin into her lap. Molly returned her smile. Finally! Then Aunt Eleanor turned her gaze to Lucy and said, “Introduce us to your friends, Molly dear!”

  Norman opened his mouth, shut it, then pinched the end of his nose with the back of his thumb and a curled forefinger as he raised his eyebrows and looked at Molly. Molly wasn’t sure how to tell her aunts that they were living with imposters. A tiny yellow bird popped out of a cuckoo clock on the dining room wall and began to sing the hour, which gave Molly a chance to gather her wits. As the bird finished and disappeared into the clock, Molly had a plan. She’d let Lucy do it. Her steely gaze fell on Lucy as she said in a quiet voice, “Yes, Molly … please introduce us.”

  Lucy pursed her lips and returned Molly’s gaze. Jean-boy spoke up and waved an arm across the table toward Molly and Norman. “This is Eleanor Rigby and Father McKenzie.”

  Norman began to cough. He covered his mouth.

  Aunt Eleanor beamed at Molly. “Eleanor! Such an old-fashioned name and such a good one, don’t you agree!” she proclaimed with a small clapping of her hands. “It’s mine as well, and this is my sister, Madeleine.”

  Aunt Madeleine smiled in silence and tilted her head to one side like a puppy. Nice to meet you, she seemed to say.

  Molly blinked, unsure what to do next. Her aunts looked so pleased and so … satisfied. And she was Eleanor Rigby. “Ah,” she said. “Look at all the lovely people.”

  “Lonely,” corrected Norman. He drank some water.

  “Oh, no need to be lonely here,” said Aunt Eleanor. “We have plenty for you to do, don’t we, Madeleine?”

  Aunt Madeleine nodded sweetly.

  “What do you like to do?” Aunt Eleanor inquired. She smiled broadly at Father McKenzie.

  Norman could feel Molly’s stare boring into the side of his face. He shook it off and said, “I darn my socks in the night when nobody’s there.”

  Lucy burst out laughing, covered her mouth, looked apologetically from person to person, recovered herself, and said solemnly, “Look at him … working!” She snorted a laugh, which made her laugh harder.

  Norman blushed. He was so pleased with himself. He had made Lucy laugh.

  Molly side-kicked Norman under the table.

  “Heavens!” said Aunt Eleanor. “We still have Brother’s socks upstairs in a dresser drawer. You are welcome to them, child.”

  Then, as if she’d just noticed no one had touched the stew, she said, “Eat! Eat! Before supper is cold!”

  Aunt Madeleine took a sip of the broth in her bowl. Her eyes crinkled and she smiled at Lucy with pleasure.

  “I so hoped you’d like it!” said Lucy, the delight obvious in her voice.

  Molly picked up her spoon while she tried to figure out what to do next.

  “It’s just as I remember it in my childhood, dear,” said Aunt Eleanor to Lucy. “Mashula’s recipe passed down the generations. You know, your mother mastered the recipe as well.”

  “Thank you, Aunt Eleanor,” said Lucy.

  Molly let the handle of her spoon clink decisively on the side of the bowl. She stared at Lucy, who would not look at her. The dilemma was clear. The answer was not.

  “Excuse me, please,” said Molly. “Father McKenzie? Can I see you in the kitchen?”

  Molly would have hauled him in if he hadn’t popped up himself and almost beat her there.

  “Bring the salt!” called Aunt Eleanor after them.

  “We should call the police!” whispered Molly at the stove.

  “No!” said Norman, his voice a hiss.

  “Why not?”

  “Because right now everything is working here, don’t you see?”

  “No, I don’t! These are intruders! Explain!”

  “The Aunts are happy. They are cared for. So what if they’re dotty and can’t remember what you just told them?”

  Molly sputtered a reply. “Norman, this is a problem! You just want to hang out with Lucy!”

  Norman took stock. Here was his chance to call the whole thing off and go home, but he was about to push for them to go on. He was crazy, but it was too late to turn back now. The Allman Brothers might be here.

  “We’re going to California, have you forgotten? If you call the police, our dads get involved and it’s all over. Is that what you want?”

  Molly considered this. They’d never get to Barry if they called the police.

  “Good point,” she conceded. “But I’m telling Mom. A grown-up needs to know. Mom got us into this. She’ll know what to do.”

  “Fine,” Norman answered. “That’s responsible.” He knew it was. He should have thought of it himself. His mind was trapped in visions of Lucy’s smile and the promise of music maybe all the way to San Francisco.

  “I know,” said Molly, “someone has to be.” She was smug in her victory, right as usual. She left Norman in the kitchen, then turned back to him and said, “Bring the salt.”

  ELEANOR RIGBY

  Written by John Lennon and Paul McCartney

  Recorded at EMI/Abbey Road Studios, London, England, 1966

  No percussion

  Performed by the Beatles

  The phone call was the easy part. Molly’s father talked with Aunt Eleanor, and with Molly, and seemed satisfied. When Molly explained the actual situation to her mother, Janice spoke in hushed tones from a corner in the kitchen while Molly’s dad watched whatever came on after the news. “They didn’t recognize you out of context, of course, without your parents, and it’s been so long!” Then she said, “Eleanor tried to tell me when we called that you were already there, but I thought that was just her ditzy nature! They’ve always been ditzy, you know. Are they okay? Are these kids good to them?”

  Yes they were, and yes they were.

  “Still,” said Janice, “Aunt Pam and I will come tomorrow. I’ll let your dad know she and I are taking a little jaunt just to check on you all in Atlanta — he’ll be glad of that. You go on your trip. We’re right behind you.”

  Molly hung the phone back in
its cradle on the kitchen wall.

  “My mother is coming tomorrow,” she told Lucy, who had been listening intently to Molly’s half of the conversation as she washed dishes.

  “I never meant to be you,” Lucy replied. “I just wanted a place to crash for the night, and they invited me in. Eleanor called me Molly, and I just went with it. She kept asking me where Norman was, and then suddenly, there he was.” She gestured to Jean-boy, who was helping Norman settle The Aunts in their recliners in front of the television set in the next room. “He asked if he could cut the grass or wash their car in return for a meal. He needed a bath as much as something to eat. Your Aunt Eleanor didn’t see his tangled hair. She saw Norman and hauled him inside and fed him coconut cake and a glass of milk. And that was that. He was Norman.”

  “He’s homeless, then,” said Molly.

  “He’s a traveler,” Lucy corrected. “Like I am. Looking for something we can’t even name right now. Family maybe. A different kind of family.”

  Molly stood in the kitchen and watched Jean-boy, the imposter Norman, tuck a blanket around Aunt Madeleine’s lap. “It’s got to be ninety degrees in here, Aunt Madeleine,” he said. Aunt Madeleine patted him on the cheek and smiled a thank-you.

  “What’s his name?” Molly asked.

  “He calls himself Marvin.”

  Molly tried it on her tongue. “Marvin.” She watched as Norman and Marvin set up The Aunts for their after-dinner television watching. Norman fiddled with the antennae on top of the TV. He gave the set a bang. “There. That’s better. You know they have color television now, Aunt Eleanor.”

  Lucy wiped down the kitchen counters, and Molly hung the wet dish towels to dry.

  “Where are you from?” Molly asked Lucy.

  “Up north a ways,” Lucy replied, as vaguely as possible.