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CHAPTER 6

Swan

      WHILE LUCY was in the kitchen, Bobby and Tagg came downstairs, groaning and holding their heads and laughing at each other. They came over and looked at the baby and Bobby offered a perfunctory hug to Peaches, who was, after all, his mother-in-law.

      Then Bobby sat down by Normalade, who made room for him, while Tagg, still laughing softly, draped his long body over the arm of the couch and for the first time noticed Swan, still half hidden in the corner of the room by the window.

      "Well Hey, Swan — is that you?" he said, his face lighting up still more, if possible. "Good to see you. You're a mighty pretty young Auntie for this young man to have."

      "How are you, Tagg. Been a long time," Swan said, keeping her eyes on Tagg's eyes. She wasn't ready to look at Bobby yet.

      Tagg looked back, warm and friendly. "Gee, kiddo, if I'd known you were in town, I'd have run off from the guys in a minute to come buy you an ice cream cone."

      "I just came down to see the baby," she said, at the same time thinking how nice it was of him to be so cordial. Compared to the way Someone Else was ignoring her.

      "How long will you be here?" he asked.

      Tagg and I are doing all the talking, Swan thought. Nobody else has said a word. They're all watching to see how I do. To see how Bobby will handle it. And He hasn't even looked at me. But then . . . how could he; Normalade owns him now.

      She swallowed hard and said, "I'm leaving in just a few minutes. Half an hour maybe." Good. Her voice came out steady and calm. She was doing fine.

      "Aw, that's a pity," Tagg said, but Swan could see that even he was now aware of the silence from everyone else in the room. "You know, Eugenio's getting married — did you know that? And we threw him a real party last night."

      Tagg almost flinched as he came to the word "married," but he shouldered on. "We started off at Gene's house, and from there we moved on to Pancho Garcia's, and then to my place. And I hate to tell you, but we were drinking beer the whole time, and some of those guys got pretty trashed — just before it broke up, Ricky Morganstern got up on a chair and serenaded Gene with a bunch of songs I never heard before."

      By now, Tagg was showing some strain. But when he paused for breath, nobody filled in the silence. Swan wanted to help him, but she wasn't sure her voice would sound natural. So Tagg plowed valiantly on, "You know Ricky can't sing for sour apples, and we could none of us decide which was worse, the songs or Ricky's singing."

      Then, mercifully, Lucy came in with the two old man and rescued them. "Now who's ready for some coffee?"

      Tagg and Bobby both leaped up at the same moment. Bobby saying, "Hi Lucy," and Tagg saying, "Here, let me help you with that."

      During the bustle of seating Bob Vance and Bertie and serving the coffee, Swan dared to take her first good look at him. Ohmygod, she thought, This is killing me. I have to get away from here!

      But she was rooted to the spot, and could not have left now to save her life. He was thinner, and he looked tired, she thought, but still as handsome . . . still as dear.

      He still hadn't looked at her.

      "Bobby darling," Normalade said clearly, "Sit back down by me and tell us some more about this big party of yours. Wasn't there some kind of joke about Cal Arthur's dog . . ."

      He turned back to her at once, and his answer was as steady as anybody could want. "Sure, Honey, let me get a cup of this, and I'll be glad to. You want some . . . ?"

      So while Lucy helped everybody to coffee and Tagg passed the cookies, Bobby settled back down beside Normalade. "Okay, you know how Cal takes his dog everywhere? Even has it sit beside him in the cab of the pickup, just like a person? Well, he'd brought it along to the party, and somebody started kidding him about how much he loves that dog. Of course, you know Cal. He never turned a hair, just nodded and said that Wolfgang-Amador was more loving and faithful to him than most men's wives were to them. And he ended up giving the dog a big, wet kiss on the nose."

      "Ooooh that's dis-gusting." Normalade giggled.

      "So when that happened, Ricky's cousin, Fiddie — you know him, Swan? Fidelio Schneider? — he said, shoot, if Cal felt all that strong about it, he better just forget about girls entirely and marry his dog, instead. And his idea was, we should go wake up his mother and have her make a dog-wedding-dress for Wolfgang-Amador, so Cal could have a double ceremony with Gene and Melida."

      He'd said her name! He hadn't looked at her, but he'd half-looked in her direction, and he'd spoken to her! Swan could hardly get her breath.

      "Well I have to say, I'm not that amused," Peaches said in a frosty tone. "And I really don't like to hear you boys speak of the sacrament of marriage in that joking way."

      Oops, Swan thought, fighting her emotion. Mama's on her high horse, and the boys are in for it now. But she was grateful for the distraction. She could look at her mother quite naturally, whereas she hadn't been able to glance at Bobby at all.

      ". . . and wasting your time and health with liquor. Especially poor Calvin Arthur, who seems to be unable to even hold down a steady job — which is a sad cross for his poor mother to bear."

      Swan shuddered. Oh, this day was terrible in every way; why in the world did Mama have to rail against liquor in this house! Old man Vance was sensitive as the devil to any sort of criticism, and as soon as she said it, his head whipped around like a snake and he looked mad enough to bite nails.

      "Now Mama," Swan said hurriedly, "Place the blame where it belongs. Cal's real problem has always been that same dear mother of his that you're so sorry for. And these friends of ours here were doing nothing but giving a special party for Gene, who is a nice boy — you know that."

      At once, Lucy threw her a grateful look, and Tagg mumbled something about how it was not really a wild party at all, while Peaches had time to realize what she had said. So Swan began asking Normalade what the doctor had told her about the baby this morning, and how much he weighed, even though they had talked about it before. And Normalade had the presence of mind to answer her sensibly, while Lucy began refilling coffee cups and offering around the cream and sugar, and Tagg grabbed the cookie plate and began giving everyone another cookie.

      The flurry of activity was successful. The uneasy moment passed, and Bob Vance's anger, which everyone had dreaded, was completely averted. Something like calm settled over the room until Tagg, well-meaning as ever, asked the fatal question: "You two talked about names, yet? What are you going to call him?"

      Swan closed her eyes in dread, and sure enough before anybody could say a word, Peaches was off like a rocket. She went through the whole routine about how she had a gift for names, and how she'd named Normalade and when she came to Swan, Swan couldn't stand it. She grabbed for her purse and stood up abruptly, saying to Lucy in a trembling voice, "Well this has been so nice to see you all, but I — "

      Only somehow her purse was not shut, and somehow she was holding it upside down . . . and everything, exactly everything went cascading all over the room: lipsticks, a handkerchief, a comb, two pencils, a pen, and dozens of coins, and as she grabbed for it, her wallet simply seemed to explode, scattering credit cards, dollar bills, scraps of paper, and photos all around her.

      Tagg leaped up to help her and upset the plate of cookies in the process. Reaching to catch it, Lucy spilled her own coffee, and Swan stood there in the center of the mess she had made, flushed and humiliated, saying desperately, "Oh, I'm so sorry — so sorry I — " and trying not to cry.

      Lucy, who was closest to her, began gathering up the coins. Bertie handed her a lipstick that had rolled under his chair. Tagg went after the credit cards on his hands and knees, and Swan knelt, head down, grabbing her things and stuffing them into her damned, traitorous purse. Because the most horrible part of it all was the pictures. Her wallet had been crammed and jammed with pictures, and they were all of her and Bobby together. How could she have come here with those pictures in her purse. And how could she have stupidly spilled them all over the room. For everybody to see what a weak, forlorn fool she was — because every single picture she carried in her wallet had Bobby in it!

      I should have cut my throat before I came here, she thought, burning with shame. Nothing — nothing in my life could ever be worse than this moment!

      And then — something happened. A hand came into her field of vision, a hand she knew as well as she knew her own hand, and it was offering her dozens of little square photos, all face down. He had come to help save her.

      Swan looked up. She looked right into Bobby's eyes. Looked at him, naked in her emotions, through the tears that were swimming in her own eyes. And of course she looked right into his heart, just as she had always been able to do. And she saw that he was still the same as ever. Still the same precious Bobby he'd always been. And he didn't hate her after all — not at all. Desperate as she was, that one look made everything all right again.

      Then Bobby turned his head, breaking that electric contact between their eyes, backed off, got up, went back to the couch. He sat down, and said something casual to Normalade, just as if nothing had happened.

      Tagg gave Swan her credit cards, with her license neatly on top. Lucy poured the coins into her hand, and said, "I think that's everything."

      Amazingly, through it all Peaches had kept talking. Now she gave Swan a commanding look and said, "Sit down, dear, and hear the name I picked out."

      So Swan, whose knees would not hold her up anyway, sank back into her chair while her mother lifted up the baby and looked at him. She paused dramatically before speaking, and said, "It must be a name he can grow into, and because my dear girl wants him to be finer than other men, I think we should name him . . ." Again she took a deep, dramatic breath, "Hero. That's it: Hero Vance."

      "Ohhhhh . . ." Normalade breathed, just as if this were the first time she'd heard all this, "That's just perfect. And that's what we'll call him: Hero!"

      Had Bobby been listening at all? Had he been thinking of something else? Because he stared at Peaches as if he hadn't fully understood what she'd said. "What!"

      Peaches smiled. "Hero. That's my name for the dearest baby in the world. Whose mother is the sweetest, dearest girl there ever was. May this little child be everything she hopes for." Then, just as she had done the first time she gave this performance, she got up and handed the baby back to Normalade and kissed her.

      Very unwisely, Tagg grinned and said, "You want to name him Hero? You're kidding!"

      Peaches gave him a cold look, but it was too late. Bertie had begun to snicker, and Bob Vance was clearing his throat to indicate that he wanted to say something, and everyone was to stop and listen.

      But Bobby paid no attention to any of them. He turned to Normalade and said, a little too loudly: "Don't be silly. No boy of mine is going to have to carry around a name like Hero. We'll name him Robert Cooke Vance, after me."

      Instantly, the baby roused, twisted up his tiny old-man's face and began to cry.

      Normalade looked down at the little face in horror. "Look what you did." she cried. "You woke him up!"

      And as the baby continued to wail, she said, over the sound, "And I think Hero's a good name. It's special, and it's interesting, and it's just what I want!"

      As if disagreeing with them both, the baby now began to howl in real earnest. The sound of it distracted Swan from everything else that was happening, cutting her to the bone, making her feel frantic. Why didn't Normalade comfort him, Or feed him. Or change him, or anything to stop his crying.

      Bobby, however, was so intent that he hardly seemed to notice. "Be sensible." he insisted, "If a boy goes to school with a name like that, he'll get beat up every day of his life. You know how mean kids are."

      Normalade gave her head such a shake that her pinkish-blonde hair flowed around her head. "No he won't either."

      "Yes he will, too!" Each of them had been speaking louder and louder, to be heard over the baby's crying, and by now Bobby was almost shouting. Perhaps the baby's crying was affecting him just as it did Swan, because he added angrily, "What's the matter with you, wanting to give our kid such a dumb, sissy name!"

      Normalade jumped up from the sofa and shrieked at him, "Well I'm sure not going to name him any Robert Cooke Vance! You can be damn sure of that! He's my baby, and I know what's right for him, and I'm going to name him anything I want to!"

      Bobby stood up to face her, beginning to look dangerous. "Now just tell me what's wrong with Robert Cooke Vance! It's a good enough name for me. And a man with that name was good enough for you — or correct me if I'm wrong."

      At which Normalade made matters still worse by saying, "Well maybe you are wrong."

      Bobby recoiled as if she had struck him. Even Peaches was silenced. Even Bertie. Even Old Bob. Nobody seemed to know what to say or do, and the poor baby kept howling, and the sound of the crying was making them all crazy.

      Bobby said slowly, coldly, "Maybe you'd like to tell me what you mean by that."

      When Normalade didn't answer, they continued to glare at each other until he added, "Well I know one thing, if you're such a red-hot mother, how come you're standing around letting him cry like this."

      Normalade hugged the screaming baby to her. "I suffered to have this child and you didn't. And he's mine, not yours! And I'd think anybody with any delicacy and consideration would have more . . ." she began to sniffle, "More consideration than to be this cruel and ugly to me before your whole family and mine. And after all you've put me through, too!"

      She turned to the others. "Now you'll have to excuse me now. I have my baby to tend to." Then she swept out of the room like a queen, and they could hear her marching up the stairs, putting each foot down hard.

      "My God," Bobby said. "My God in Heaven!" Without looking at anyone, he walked out of the room, and moments later, they heard the front door slam behind him.

      Peaches looked around timidly. "Well it was only a suggestion . . ."

      Tagg started to say something that began with, "Aww, well, I . . ." But he didn't finish.

      Twisting her hands together, Peaches continued, "Of course, they are certainly free to call the child anything they wish to. And certainly, there'd be no hard feelings on my part, whatever name they do decide to give him. It wouldn't make a particle of difference to me. Although I —"

      Very softly, Swan said, "No, Mama."

      Peaches stopped short, hesitated and went on, "And all of you know, I'm sure, that I'll continue to feel the same love and affection for him, whatever name he goes by. I'm sure Normalade knows that; I certainly hope everybody else knows that."

      Bob leaned forward in his wheeled chair. "You don't need to take on about it, Peaches. You meant to do good. And I have to say you're a real lady, and I always said so."

      "Well I very much appreciate that, and it's kind of you to say it." She glanced at her wristwatch. "Oh, my goodness, how late it is. Swan and I must be going. I do hope I haven't overstayed my welcome."

      Lucy got up and took her hand. "Miss Peaches, Please don't rush away like that. I'm sure Normalade will be back down in a minute and she'll be sorry you didn't stay to say goodbye. Stay a little longer. Here — let me freshen your coffee."

      So Peaches let Lucy refill her cup, and they all sat down again. Bob said, "Nice of you to get over here so quick, this morning, Peaches. Listen, why don't you come by the cafe some time soon and have a bowl of chili. Our treat, of course."

      Peaches said, "That's very nice of you. I'll have to do that one day."

      "They got a real good cook now," Bertie put in, making conversation. "Name's Gene."

      "I think I knew that," Peaches said.

      "He's getting married Sunday. Marrying Melida that works at the bar." Bertie continued.

      "Not any more," Lucy said, "We had to get a new server, Elena, to replace her, but she hasn't worked out at all. I've had to correct her again and again, and last night she walked out before I could even pay her — I think she's quit."

      "That's too bad. How are you going to manage, with Gene being on his honeymoon?" Tagg said sympathetically. Then he began to grin, "Hey — I bet Bertie would like that job. How about it, Bertie, you want to go to work for Lucy and be a barmaid?"

      Bertie grinned back at Tagg with his broken teeth. "Now that's not such a bad idea. But you got to get me a cute little uniform first — so the boys'll try to snap my garters."

      Both Tagg and Bertie began to laugh, and Bertie added, "How about it, Toots — think I could make it on my tips?"

      Lucy shook her head. "Don't know about tips, Bertie, but if you really . . ."

      And then, amazingly, as if someone else were speaking, Swan heard herself say, "If it's an emergency, Lucy, I'll help out until you can find someone."

      They all fell silent and Swan hardly realized why. Was it so odd that she would offer to help out a friend? She had known Lucy most of her life. All through high school she and Lucy and Tagg and Bobby had . . .

      Lucy said, "My goodness, Swan. The thought of that takes my breath away. Would you really?"

      The thought seemed to have taken Peaches' breath away, too. She fixed Swan with eyes that looked almost frightened and said slowly and guardedly. "Swan dear, are you sure that's wise?"

      And Tagg, whose expression was very much like the one Peaches wore said, "You don't want to do that. Quit your good job and come back here? What would you do, move back in with your mother?"

      Swan said calmly. "Or find a place of my own."

      "Well, I don't know why you . . ." Miss Peaches hesitated. And then she tossed her head and added, but as if this was something quite different from what she'd been thinking, "For one thing, women that work in bars are generally Mexicans."

      Swan shrugged. "Nothing wrong with Mexicans, Mama. Anyway, everybody here knows me, and they know I'm a lady. And Lucy's there, and she's a lady. We're all related now, so I don't see a problem with it. And as for serving chili and beer to a few cowboys, I don't see any problem with that, either."

      Peaches shut her lips very tightly and said in a disapproving voice, "Well, I suppose you will do whatever you want to, no matter what I say."

      "That's right. I will." She turned to the old man in the wheeled chair. "Unless you think I'm being too pushy, Mr. Vance. Maybe you'd rather not . . . ?"

      He simply beamed at her. "Young Lady, I'd be proud."

      "I guess it's settled then. Would you want me to start this weekend?"

      Tagg sat back, watching her. "Gee, Swan," he said, "So . . . it's settled, just like that. How about that. Um — if you're going to get your own place, maybe you'd like to try staying in my folk's house. It's been sitting vacant for a couple of years, but I've been keeping it clean . . . and nights I'll be pretty close by. That way Miss Peaches won't worry."

      "That's extremely kind of you, Tommy," she said. "And I might take you up on it. I don't require watching over. You don't need to worry about me."

      Tagg's answer, which was almost inaudible, sounded like, "But I do. I do."

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