She checked in at the reception room, filled in some cards, wrote down her name on a long list, found out what building she'd be living in, and a little while later, Sam was helping her again, loading all of her luggage on an old country cart. It was almost like a trip back in time just being there, and for the first time in months, she felt peaceful again. She wouldn't have to face her mother here, wouldn't have to explain how she felt or didn't feel, wouldn't have to hear the hated Durning name, or see the unknowing pain Arthur inflicted on her mother's face … or hear about Billy again … just being in the same town with them had stifled her, and for the first month or two after the rape, all she had wanted to do was run away. It had taken all the courage she had to go on to camp that summer anyway, and each day there had been a battle too. She wanted to flinch each time someone came too close, especially the men, but even the boys frightened her now too. At least she didn't have to worry about that here. It was an all-women's school, and she didn't have to attend the dances or proms, or nearby football games. The social life had appealed to her when she had first applied, but she didn't care about that now. She didn't care about anything … or at least she hadn't in three months … but suddenly … suddenly … even the air here smelled good, and as Sam rolled the luggage cart along, she looked at him with a slow smile and he grinned at her.
“It's a long way from New York.” His eyes seemed to dance, and the nubby white hair looked soft.
“It sure is. It really is beautiful here.” She glanced out at the lake and then back at the buildings behind her, fanned out, with still smaller buildings ahead of them. It looked almost like a palatial estate, which was what it had once been, everything was so perfectly manicured, immaculately kept. She was almost sorry her mother couldn't see it now, but perhaps she would eventually.
“It used to be a plantation, you know.” He told hundreds of girls that every year. He loved to tell the story to the girls. His granddaddy had been a slave right here, he always bragged, as they looked at him with wide eyes. They were so young and so fine, almost like his own daughter had been, except she was a grown woman now, with children of her own. And these girls would be married and have children soon too. He knew that every year, in the spring, girls came back from everywhere to get married in the beautiful church right there on the grounds, and after graduation ceremonies, there were always at least a dozen who got married in the ensuing days. He glanced at Tana as she loped along at his side, wondering how long this one would last. She was one of the prettiest girls he had ever seen, with long shapely legs, and that face, the shaft of golden hair, and those enormous green eyes. If he'd known her for a while he would have teased her and told her she looked like a movie star, but this one was more reserved than most. He had noticed all along that she was unusually shy. “You been here before?” She shook her head, looking up at the building where he had just stopped the cart. “This is one of the nicest houses we got. Jasmine House. I've already brought five girls here today. There should be about twenty-five or so here in all, and a housemother to keep an eye on all of you,” he beamed, “though I'm sure none of you will be needing that.” He laughed his deep, rich burst of laughter again, which sounded almost musical, and Tana smiled, helping him with some of her bags. She followed him inside, and found herself in a pleasantly decorated living room. The furniture was almost entirely antique, English and Early American, the fabrics were flowery and bright, and there were big bouquets of flowers in large handsome crystal vases on several tables and a desk. There was a homey atmosphere as Tana stepped in and looked around, and one of the first things that struck her about the place was that it was ladylike. Everything looked proper and neat, and as though one ought to be wearing a hat and white gloves, and suddenly Tana looked down at her plaid skirt, her loafers and knee socks, and smiled at the woman coming across the room to her in a neat gray suit. She had white hair and blue eyes. She was their housemother, Tana soon learned. She had been housemother of Jasmine House for more than twenty years, she had a gentle Southern drawl, and when her jacket opened, Tana noticed a single strand of pearls. She looked like someone's aunt, and there were deep smile lines around her eyes.
“Welcome to Jasmine House, my dear.” There were eleven other houses on campus much like this, “but we like to think that Jasmine is the very best.” She beamed at Tana, and offered her a cup of tea as Sam took her bags upstairs. Tana accepted the flowered cup with the silver spoon, declined a plate of bland looking little cakes, and sat looking at the view of the lake, thinking of how strange life was. She felt as though she had landed in a different universe. Things were so different from New York … suddenly here she was, far from everyone she knew, drinking tea and talking to this woman with blue eyes and pearls … when only three months before she had been lying on Arthur Durning's bedroom floor being raped and beaten by his son.”…, don't you think, dear?” Tana stared blankly at the housemother, not sure of what she had just said, and demurely nodded her head, feeling suddenly tired. It was so much to take in all at once.
“Yes … yes … I do.…” She wasn't even sure what she was agreeing with, and suddenly all she wanted to do was escape to her room. At last, they finished their tea, set down their cups, and Tana had a sudden urge to laugh, wondering just how much tea the poor woman had had to drink that day, and then as though sensing Tana's impatience to settle in, she led the way to her room. It was up two handsomely curved flights of stairs, on a long hall, with flower prints and photographs of alumnae interspersed. Her room was at the very end of the hall. The walls were a pale pink, the curtains and bedspreads chintz. There were two narrow beds, two very old chests, two chairs, and a tiny corner sink. It was a funny old-fashioned room and the ceiling sloped directly over their beds. The housemother was watching her and seemed satisfied as Tana turned to her with a smile.
“This is very nice.”
“Every room in Jasmine House is.” She left the room shortly after that, and Tana sat staring at her trunks, not quite sure what to do, and then she lay down on her bed, looking out at the trees. She wondered if she should wait for her roommate to arrive before simply taking over one of the chests or half of the hanging space, and she didn't feel like unpacking anyway. She was thinking of taking a walk around the lake when she heard a knock on the door and suddenly Old Sam appeared. She sat up quickly on the edge of the bed, and he walked into the room carrying two bags with a strange look on his face. He glanced over at where Tana sat, seemed to shrug, and just looked at her.