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He nodded.

"Well, the nights are considerably quieter here. You made a wise choice," he added. He opened the car door. I wanted to say I didn't make a choice; it was made for me, but I let the words crumble on my tongue. He got into the Rolls and drove it into the garage. Then he pulled down the door.

"My Rolls is just over here," he said indicating the side of the garage. I followed him as he walked around to a late model Ford.

"You don't live here, too?" I asked.

"Oh no. I come when she needs me to. I live in Jessup's Gap, hardly much of a town about ten miles southwest. Mrs. Brown's rooming house. Been there about seven years now," he said squeezing his chin between his thumb and forefinger. He smiled at me and got into his vehicle. I watched him start the engine and roll down the window. "She tells me I'll be driving you over to the Dogwood School for girls and back," he said, "so we'll have plenty of time to get to know each other, unless you're the type who doesn't like to talk early in the morning.

"Me?" he said shifting into drive, "I never shut up, morning, noon or night. At least, that's what she's always saying," he added nodding toward the house again. "Welcome." He saluted and started away.

I watched him coast down the driveway. He was funny, I thought, and made me feel a little welcome at least.

I walked on with my head down toward the pond. The birds seemed to get louder around me and flit along as if I was of great curiosity to them. In the distance clouds thickened and rolled toward the west, chasing the sun. Two large black crows came off the lake toward me and then veered sharply to my left and into the trees. The breeze picked up. I felt my hair dancing over my forehead. The air did seem cleaner, fresher here and the songbirds replaced the sounds of traffic, horns and squealing brakes. I could smell the perfume of wildflowers and plucked a blade of tall grass to hold between my teeth.

Jake was right, I thought. The land romance

s you, but would I be comfortable here? Could I be so alone and be happy? Beni would hate it here, I thought with a smile.

She'd complain about the distance to hip-hop joints and how boring it was to just walk and look at nature. She'd hate the quiet and moan about the absence of boys.

But Roy would probably like it here. He hated the city and he was alone so much of the time that the solitude wouldn't make his nerve ends twitch the way it would make Beni's.

I stood on the dock and looked out over the water. The strong breeze made it lap against the shore. The rowboats knocked gently against the side of the dock. One had a little water in it, but the other was bone dry. There were no oars. I wondered if my grandmother would ever let me go in one. Beni might like this, I thought. Roy would love it.

"Hey!" I heard and turned to see Merilyn standing on the lawn gesturing.

"You have a phone call," she cried. She gestured emphatically.

"A phone call?" I hurried back toward the house. Who was calling me? Mama? Roy?

I broke into a trot. Merilyn went into the house but was in the hallway when I entered.

"The phone's in there," she said pointing to the less formal living room.

I hurried in and picked up the receiver. "Mama?"

"No, it's only me," my real mother said. "How are you doing? Has my mother said anything nasty yet?"

"Oh. No. I haven't met her yet. She's in her room, I think."

"Figures she'd pull one of those. All right, listen, don't argue with her. Don't talk back. Don't challenge anything she says or tells you to do. You don't have to fall in love with her. Just live there, follow her rules and you'll be fine."

"When am I going to see you?" I asked.

"I can't come there for a few days yet. Just...make the best of things, okay? I have to go. I just wanted to be sure you arrived all right."

"I've arrived all right," I said dryly.

"That's half the battle," she replied. "I'll call you soon."

She hung up without saying good-bye. I plopped on the leather chair beside the phone and sat staring at the brass figurine of an eagle. It looked like it was glaring back at me angrily.

"Don't ask," I muttered. "I don't know why I'm here either."

"Really?" I heard someone say sharply and turned to see my grandmother standing in the doorway. Immediately, I jumped to my feet and we confronted each other.

She was taller than I expected and still very stately with posture as perfect as could be. Her Confederate gray hair was cut and styled to frame her face, the prominent feature of which was her tight, strong jaw line. I saw my mother's eyes and nose, but my grandmother's mouth was fuller.