Winters' 3 Dears- The 12: Book Three

4. The Narrow Lake

Spring of Vivaldi's Four Seasons filled the studio as the pointe dancers practiced their routine. They were to be the largest part of the upcoming fall recital.

Ladybird led them in a Fouette en tourant as Wysteria played the music from her violin. When the dancers stopped she stopped and Ladybird applauded all of them. "We will work next on our pas de chat." She took a towel from the stool behind the piano and dabbed her face as her dancers rested.

"I thought you said Beatrice said she would be here tonight after all," Wysteria said approaching her sister by the piano with her instrument under her arm.

"She must have changed her mind," Ladybird said. "She was awfully upset this afternoon when she came home." She went over to her bag and checked the broach watch attached to her blouse. "I'm going to look for her." She took a sweater and put it on over her bodice leaving her orange tulle tutu sticking out.

"I'll keep them entertained," Wysteria said. She tucked her violin under her chin and danced out onto the floor en pointe playing the Chavalier de St. Georges' Violin Concertos as Lady-Bird slipped from the room and hurried up the hall with the music playing behind her.

She ran into the evening street and started up the sidewalk toward home. When she saw someone she knew she stopped them and asked if they had seen Beatrice. When they said they hadn't she continued toward home.

"Beatrice!" Ladybird shouted as she entered the front door. "Beatrice?" she went into the parlor where something jumped out and grabbed her foot making her scream. "Oh, Breakfast, it's just you." She picked up the black cat and carried him upstairs with her until he squirmed to get down. Letting the cat jump to the floor she went into the bedroom. "Beatrice?" Both beds were empty.

When she heard the front door open she rushed back downstairs to find Beatrice just coming in. "Oh, Baby B, I was so worried about you. When you said you were coming to the studio and then didn't show up..." she hugged her. "Where have you been?"

"At The Grandmothers," Beatrice said clutching her tennis gear and school books. She looked her sister in the eye. "Is it true he wasn't my father?"

Ladybird frowned. "What are you talking about?"

"Pa!" Beatrice said. "Is it true he wasn't my father, Ladybird, I need to know?"

Ladybird shook her head. "Who told you he wasn't."

"Matthew Hurston called Mama a jezebel. Anderson Yewtree said my father was white. That's why I went to Grandmother's she was the only one who would know."

"No!" Ladybird shouted. "I would have been old enough to remember and I remember Pa loving you very much. I remember you as a baby, how he held you and..."

"But what about Mama?" Beatrice demanded. "Did Mama have any friends who were white?"

"Don't talk about her that way, Baby B, she's our mama. You're...you're one of us."

Beatrice shrugged her shoulders. "I've had a long day, I'm going to bed."

"Baby B, wait," Ladybird called after her sister but was answered with a door slamming upstairs. She went into the parlor and sat down with her tutu fluffing up around her. She lost track of time and the next thing she knew Wysteria was coming through the door carrying her violin case and both their dancing bags.

"Did you find her?" she asked through the dark house.

"She came home on her own," Ladybird said.