Voice Of A Nightingale

Adele's Point of View.

"Oh, little Tim, if only you knew what vegetables would do to your body. You would eat them rather than throw them away or secretly give them to your mother." My mother said, that made Timothy's hand freeze in the air. His eyes squinted at his grandmother.

"If I eat them, will you tell me what they do?" Timothy pleaded, then added. "But you don't have to tell me anything if they are bad things." Mom chuckled softly.

"They are not bad things. In fact, I'll tell you the secret then. They make you grow so tall that they might mistake you for a sixteen-year-old fella instead of a five-year-old." She exaggerated and I rolled my eyes. But Timothy was buying it. So help me God, he was buying the lie my mother was feeding him. I chuckled at his widened eyes.

He turned to me, "Did you hear that, Mama? I could be tall like you if I eat my vegetables."

I nodded and ruffled his thick brown hair. Since he was already buying into it all, I might as well contribute to this party of hoping to love vegetable aspiration. "I did, sweetheart. I sure did. It doesn't only make you grow so tall, it also makes your teeth as strong as they can be."

His eyes danced. "Does that mean I get to eat all the candy I can without caring for my teeth?"

I chuckled. "Sure, why not."

He immediately started shoving all the broccoli that could fit into his small mouth, stopping in between heavy bites to drink water. Oh, kids were so gullible.

My sister, Ann, didn't say anything for a while. Her head was drowned by the newspaper in front of her. "Oh my God!" her voice rang loudly, bringing us all to a halt. She then stared up, her eyes apologizing before her voice did. "Sorry. I just... Believe it or not, your name is on the paper. Carlton Perry wrote about you after all. He says your voice can soothe a bruise, and cut tension loose. Wow, that rhymed!"

I sprung to my feet, collecting the newspaper from her at once. She wasn't joking. My name had actually been there. My heart warmed at the beautiful words. Everyone read the paper, did that mean that they were going to see this? Of course, they would.

"Does that mean you're famous now, mama?" Little Tim asked with his mouth full. The excitement and hope in his voice weren't hidden though. My eyes moved to the leaking ceiling and the bucket that accommodated all the water it had to pour since last night and sighed.

I shrugged. "I wouldn't say that I'm famous now baby, just that perhaps I may be drawing attention to myself. That's all."

He frowned. "Isn't that what being famous means?" He asked, staring at me. Waiting for an answer. I shrugged and nodded. Finally giving in to his question. I knew how difficult it was to answer Tim's question. Whenever it started, it didn't seem to stop.

"Yay!" His hands raised up and back down. Something about seeing my son that excited made me excited. If only I could do more...

I raised my gaze from Tim's face and they fell on my mother who had grown unusually silent. She pursed her lips and shook her head. Then placing a careful smile back on, she turned to Tim who seemed like he was contemplating eating the one last broccoli on his plate or losing the challenge that my mother hadn't uttered.

"Come on, Tim, let's go find that sweater of yours before your daddy comes to pick you up."

Tim immediately got up, looking like he was excited to leave the food. He was sick of the veggies. I knew it. That made me want to laugh, but Mom's silence about the newspaper held me back. I wasn't sure it was okay to laugh, yet anyway. When they both disappeared behind the curtain, Ann stared at me.

"What do you think that was about?"

"I have no idea and if I'm being honest, I hate that I don't know. Maybe if I did know, I would have the slightest idea on how to just soothe her. Let her know that it's okay. That it's going to be okay. We are going to be okay. We've always been okay, it's not going to be the last time."

"Yeah, well, I don't know about that," Ann said. Her gaze then flew down to her dinner plate like she had already said enough and shouldn't have spoken at all.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing."

"Annie Charity Freeman, I can read you like a book. You can lie to everyone but not me. What did you mean by what you said?"

"What did I say? It was just me trying to be honest about how I'm feeling." She lies again. Her eyes twitched.

I sighed. "Just tell me what the problem is, please. There's something you know that I don't know and you don't want to tell me."

It was her turn to sigh. She stared at me for a while before finally giving in. "We're going to be having neighbors in no time."

What did that mean? I had no idea that my face lined up with a frown on my forehead as I tried to understand what she meant by that. There was nothing but land surrounding our house. It was one thing I loved about the homestead. It had quite the privacy that people so loved. It immediately dawned on me. Were we planning to sell a bit of the land to some people?! "Please don't tell me that Mama is trying to sell the land? You know how much this place meant to Father."

Anne's gaze wouldn't meet mine. My stomach churned from the suspense. Oh, no, it was actually worse. That was not the only thing. It had to be much worse. Everything about Anna's face said so. "I wish it were just a bit of the land we were selling." Anne sighed before breaking more of the bad news to me. "Adele, the house is on the market. It has been for the past one week and as of this minute, we have received calls from interested buyers."

Wait. What?! Having nothing else to do, I laughed. Surely, it was just a joke. But with each rhythm of laughter, Anne's gaze gets more serious. My stomach churned at her face. An unusual lump formed on my throat as I tried to hold in it, it felt more and more impossible to hold in.

"I... Why? I don't understand." My eyes roamed through the dining room. The ceiling. Everywhere brought memories. Everything about this house had the story of my life written on it. Experiences as handwriting. Painful and pleasant. Joyous and angering. It was all here. I sunk into my chair, suddenly no longer in the mood for food. I had once thought that the food on the plate was too small but now, it was like a mountain to finish. I had no idea that my mother had been watching us from the doorway until her voice spoke, making me jump slightly.

"Because we can't afford the money to pay it off anymore. We have nothing else to do but to sell this house. It's either we sell it or we-"

I whirled around, eyes flashing. "We can't pay for it anymore? What's that supposed to mean? What about the savings Dad left in the bank? What about the money he has saved all his life?"

"You mean the five thousand dollars and a button?" My mother asked dryly. Her eyes met mine. Anne just sat still, watching us both. Silently praying that we wouldn't turn the house down in our obvious rage. "Adelita, do you know how much this house cost? Your father's 'savings' would do us no good."

She paused, waiting for me to come up with a comeback. When I didn't, her volume equally came down and she sighed. She went to her seat, her tone was gentle and ready to reason with me. "God knows that your father worked hard all his life. He has always worked hard. For a boy who had nothing to his name, nobody believed that he would actually make it, but he did. He worked with his hands and he bought this house with little he had." My mother swallowed, she was holding back tears. I knew it. Even though she hated crying and showing much affection, whenever it came to my father she was a puddle. "When we bought this house, the mortgage wasn't that huge. We thought we could pay for it. We were so sure, but with each year things just seemed more and more impossible. It was more of hand to mouth and farm to bank." She sniffled loudly. "I mean, the banks are, after all, thieves with a building."

Anne's hand flew over hers. "I'm sorry, mama." Staring at their clasped hands for a long time, before deciding it was probably the source of strength I needed now. I placed my hand over theirs. My mother stared up and smiled at us both.

"I'm sorry too, honey. We could have done better, but we did all we knew we could do. It's all we could do."

"Mama, don't say that. You and Papa gave us everything that you could give. You gave us everything and that is what it is, everything. Nothing less. Definitely something more if you ask me. You are giving Tim all you can. You're a great mother and grandmother, and Papa was a great father. The best actually." That made her smile. Anne nodded I'm agreement, unable to stop the smile that slowly clung to her face.

"Thank you, sweetheart," Mama whispered. And even if I wasn't so sure before, something about that broken whisper gave me all the reassurance I needed.

"And don't worry about the house. I know that's impossible to ask of you but let me just tell you now, that I will do everything I can to see that we don't leave this house. Do you hear me? Everything, I can do. We are not going to leave our home." I said.

Mama and Anne exchanged a glance. "Did you just hear anything I said? Adelita, we have four months to leave this house. We got lucky enough to get the barn out of the deal, we paid that off, and we'll just renovate it. Don't worry about it. Sweetheart, hundred thousand dollars is a lot of money. It's not something you can just get like that. Not without getting another loan. I don't want you getting a loan on my behalf, please dear, let's just take what we have."

I shook my head. "Mama, everything I know is here. This is the place I grew up in. This is the place that I call home. I can't just let it go like that. You have to understand. It's not going to be that simple. I'm not letting go. Not without a fight."

She stared at me for a while. I could tell she was trying her best to remain calm and not flip at me. I was being difficult. Before she asked the question, I had been convinced she would ask, Anne did.

"What are you going to do, Adele?"

"Anything."

***

I had nothing. Absolutely no idea how to save our house. And even though as I walked into the bar, everyone celebrated with me and congratulated me for the achievement of having my name published in the local newspaper and for something good, it couldn't quite wipe out the thought of losing my home. And who was going to tell Tim? It had to be Mama. I wasn't as strong as she was when it came to giving bad news. I didn't trust myself not to break into tears when breaking the news to him.

"Adele Freeman, the stage is yours in fifteen." The bar manager called loudly, making me jump.