MISS CALVERT
Chapter Two

The old woman slowly rose from her chair and picked up her cane. She began to creep over to the girl. She was old, her back was hunched and she seemed to have difficulty walking, but there was a certain grace to her movements.

Sarah’s back was pressed to the wall. She could tell this lady was weak and harmless, but she was terrified of her for reasons unknown.

Once the woman reached her and they stood face-to-face she stopped. But it was not so much face-to-face as it was face to chest. The younger woman, nearly six feet, towered over her elder.

The stranger looked up at Sarah and gestured for her to come lower. Sarah bent her knees to shorten herself, slow at first and then faster until she was at the same level as her companion.

The woman perused her face as if in search of answers. She looked at her hair and frowned. She let go of her wet blonde locks, leaving them to fall at her shoulders once more. Sarah dared not breathe.

"No…" sighed the woman. "I knew you could not be." She placed her index finger just below Sarah’s eye. "And the eyes…she had eyes like the ocean." She stared hard into the girl’s intense eyes. The girl’s brown, soulful eyes stared right back at her.

The woman turned away and stalked back to her chair. She sunk back into her chair, disappearing into it. She shook her head and smiled.

Sarah fell the rest of the way to the floor and remained there for several moments then got up to leave.

"I’m sorry for disturbing you. I was just lost and cold and it looked like no one was here…I’m very sorry I’ll leave."

"Very well." Replied the woman. The moment Sarah went for the door handle the woman spoke again. "What is your name?"

Sarah left her duffel bag by the door and walked to the far end of the room to the old woman, but she still kept her distance. "My name is Sarah. Sarah Calvert."

"So tell me Ms. Calvert. Where are you supposed to be?"

"Second Street. But I don’t have to be there for a few hours."

"You were traveling on Girard Avenue to get there?"

"Yes."

"You went west. Second Street is a few miles east of here."

"Oh thank you…I’m sorry again for disturbing you."

"That’s of no matter. It’s nice to have company. Please sit down if you chose to stay. We’ll talk awhile. Any topic, except the weather, that is a most dreadful subject on any occasion." Sarah grabbed a stool and dragged it over to the woman. She had broken into her house, she should at least do as she asks. "I’m all alone here, you see. I have but one servant, she’s the only one that stayed."

"You have only one servant in this entire house?"

"Yes, but Suzanne is mad, that’s why she puts up with me." Sarah said nothing. "What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?"

"I’m just not sure what to say."

"You’re young and healthy. I should imagine you would have plenty to say. Aren’t young people supposed to be outspoken?"

"Some are. I am sometimes."

"I knew a girl very much like you once." She took a good look at the girl’s face again. "Very much like you. She made it a point always to be outspoken. She was obdurate. Very much so. She always loved to make rude comments at dinner…preferably in front of a lot of people, and usually at someone else’s expense."

"Oh."

"She liked to…expose people. She was very good at it. And she usually got away with it."

"How?"

"She was much smarter than the rest of us."

"What happened to her?"

The woman sighed and paused for a long time. "She died…" She pursed her lips. "…when she was young…very young."

"…Oh…I-I’m very sorry to hear that."

"It’s not your fault." The woman got up and walked over to an adult-sized bed. "Fifty years ago today I was in this very room on this very bed, giving birth to that girl." Sarah looked at her companion, her sympathetic eyes unwavering. "How old you are Miss Sarah?"

"I’m twenty-one Ma'am."

"Ah. Rose…my Rose, was only seventeen when she passed on. She was an unhappy girl, very unhappy. So was I. We were miserable together. And even more miserable after we lost her father. But she did find happiness for short moment in time. Then she died. The last time I ever saw her she was furious with me. I just hope she found what she was looking for." Sarah got up from her stool to join her new friend. "Do have you both your parents Sarah?"

"Yes."

"Are they good to you? I know that’s very personal question, but please answer truthfully."

"Yes, they’re the best I could ask for."

"Then take care of yourself. They need you. They need you more than you need them whether you’re with them or not."

"I will."

The woman spoke again after a beat. "When you walked in the room I thought you were my Rose. You look and sound so much like her it’s uncanny."

"People look like each other I guess. I’ve been mistaken for my mother a lot. And my neighbor Emily, looks like Elizabeth Taylor, only older. Actually there’s an old picture of her that looks exactly like ‘National Velvet.’ But she’s not related to her or anything."

"Yes, I guess it does happens sometimes."

"Oh no!" Sarah remembered something.

"What is it?"

"I left my suitcase outside…" Sarah didn’t want to tell her she had been all over the yard.

"Well then. You’d best go get it."

"I’ll be right back. I promise Mrs.…"

"DeWitt Bukater. Mrs. Ruth DeWitt Bukater."

Sarah just nodded. She would never remember that one unless she saw it written down.

She hurried out through the halls, down the stairs, and out into the yard. It was raining even harder now. She went back to the tree and retrieved her suitcase. What am I doing? Did she see me here before? No, that’s not possible, every window in that nursery is covered. She walked back to the house questioning everything. She should stay and keep this poor woman company for a little while, but something was not quite right here.

She found herself back in the nursery again soaking wet all over.

"Sit down by the fire. You’ll catch your death." Ruth motioned her young friend to the armchair by the fireplace. Sarah was uneasy at first. "Don’t worry it’ll dry. May I ask you one more question?"

"Uh huh."

"What on earth possessed you to go out like that?" Ruth was referring to what Sarah was wearing: a house dress and light jacket--which she had since discarded when she first came in. "It’s freezing out!"

"I don’t get that cold."

"And look at your dress now." Her bright red dress was now sopping and muddy.

"I can wash it." Ruth shook her head. "You sound just like my mother."

Just then someone else entered the room: a woman of about sixty. "Suzanne, didn’t I tell you never to disturb me when I am in this room?"

Suzanne walked further into the room, ignoring her mistress. "I didn’t know we had a visitor."

Ruth sneered. Sarah rose from the chair to meet Suzanne and put out her hand. Ruth made had made her feel more at ease very quickly. "Hello I’m--" Suzanne backed away aghast.

"She has come back!"

"No Suzanne!"

"She is the Angel of Death! See how she is wet. She has come back from the sea!" She pointed violently.

"SUZANNE!" Sarah backed away. Suzanne came one step closer with every step Sarah took back. "Leave her alone Suzanne or I will see that Mrs. Christianson takes you away!"

Sarah tripped over her suitcase and it flung open spilling its contents all over the room. Her clothes flew up into the air along with a baseball, a mitt, and something else. It glittered in the air as it reflected the light from the fire until it fell at Ruth’s feet.

Suzanne, who was so sure of herself before, was puzzled now. Ruth stared down at the object on the floor. Suzanne then returned to Sarah who was now on her knees crawling for the door. "Miss Rose has come back!"

"What is she talking about? I’m not her! It’s not me!" Sarah scrambled to her feet and gave Ruth one more pleading look and left.

Suzanne followed her down the hall. The faster Sarah walked the faster Suzanne did to catch up with her. Sarah began to run faster and faster until Suzanne was far behind. She was no match for Lucky Thirteen.

But unfortunately for the star Blue Sock, this absolutely titanic house was not infinite. She slammed into the wall and collapsed onto the floor. Staring up, all she could see was darkness. What’s happening? Why did I run? A light came towards her after several moments of darkness. Why is there no electricity? It was Ruth. Suzanne was at the other end of the hall, half-hidden behind a door.

The light from Ruth’s lamp gradually revealed another young woman looking straight into her. It was a painting. She had blue-green eyes like the ocean and wild red curls as red as the dress Sarah wore. But with the same expression, that same wry smile in the corner of her mouth, it could only be one person.

Sarah was breaking a sweat, she tried to speak at first, but she was breathing to fast. "That’s my mother."

Chapter Three
Stories