He and Corinna had been invited there to supper now and then. The first time wasn’t more than a few months after Hannah had been given to Sam to take care of. Miss Biedelman and Miss Effie had set that huge dark table with a fine white tablecloth, china and crystal and silver, looked just like some movie. They’d sat way up at one end, but you could have fed a baseball team at that table and still had room to spare.
Sam had been self-conscious of his manners but Corinna settled in like visiting royalty, and that was just how they’d treated her, too. Asked her all sorts of questions about her grandmother and grandfather coming out from Chicago and settling a claim out near Bladenham, so poor they’d had to make their clothes from hides one year just like the Indians. They’d been too embarrassed to be seen like that, so they lived off the land until Corinna’s grandmother had spun and woven enough cloth to make Corinna’s granddaddy a proper suit of clothes.
Corinna had talked on and on, sitting up so straight and fine, her face glowing just like a polished chestnut. She had a smooth, rich voice, and she could spin a story as well as anyone he’d ever heard. Sam had been so proud of her he’d hardly said a word the whole meal, just watched her sparkle. When Corinna teased him about it on the way home, he told her he could talk to Miss Biedelman any time he wanted, but it wasn’t every day he could see his wife doing herself so proud. Even now, so many years later, it was a memory that sustained him sometimes when he was feeling low.
When he came up the walk to the house, he saw Harriet Saul standing at her window, watching for him; by the time he walked in the office door she was fumbling with a slew of keys on a plastic spiral bracelet which she pushed up an arm as meaty as a ham. She pulled her office door shut behind her and led him upstairs and down the hall. He’d never been in this part of the house before, felt embarrassed to be here now, even with Miss Biedelman long dead. It felt like trespassing. But Harriet was already halfway down the hall. She moved real quick for such a stumpy woman; reminded him of the way Hannah moved out sometimes when she caught the smell of a treat in the wind.
Harriet unlocked a door and went inside, beckoning for him to follow. “I want you to look at these and tell me anything you know about these people,” she said. She opened a big wooden drawer and pulled out a fistful of photographs which she handed to Sam. “Start with these.”
“I’ll be damned,” he said softly, because he was looking at pictures of Africa. “That’s Miss Biedelman. Wasn’t she a fine-looking girl, though! I never saw her except as an old lady. Wouldn’t have pictured her like this, but she sure does look like herself.”
“Maxine Biedelman,” Harriet said.
“No one else it could be, not with those eyes. She hated being called Maxine, though. Always had people call her Max, and she got real mad when they forgot.”
“I thought Max was her father.”
“No ma’am, his name was Arthur. Died of the fever when she was twenty-five. I guess it nearly broke her heart.”
Harriet took the pictures out of Sam’s hand and thrust another one at him. “Who’s this with her? Is she a sister, maybe, or a cousin?”
Sam broke into a wide smile, saying softly, “Well, I’ll be. Naw, there never was a sister. That’s little Miss Effie standing next to her. Doesn’t she look just like a picture in all those pearls. And so young and pretty, too.”
“Who was Effie?”
“Miss Biedelman always introduced her as her personal secretary, though I never saw her working. Of course, that was when they were old, too. Didn’t know Miss Effie knew Miss Biedelman when they were so young, though. Fine-looking women, both of them. Don’t they just beat all in their fancy clothes.”
Sam handed the pictures back to Harriet, frowning. “It doesn’t feel right going through their personal effects like this. Miss Biedelman was a real private woman. She wouldn’t like us pawing through her things.”
Harriet waved away his concern. “She left them to the City of Bladenham, just like she left the house. I’ll get hold of the historical society, so they can catalog everything.”
“Well, I thank you for letting me see them again. I still miss them sometimes, even after all these years.”
Halfway back to the elephant yard Sam felt a tug on the back of his shirt. “Mister? Hey, mister.”
He turned around and saw Reginald Poole, the boy who’d come along for a walk with him and Hannah. “Well, hey, boy. You come back to see my elephant?”
“Yeah, I came back like you asked me to. You remember me?”
“Of course I do. You treating your aunt right?”
“Yeah, I’m treating her good.”
“Glad to hear it, son. Treating women right’s one of the most important jobs a man’s got, seeing as how they give birth to us and all. It’s the least we can do in return.”
“Yeah. So are you going to walk that elephant again sometime?” Reginald walked with a big-man, basketball walk, bouncing up on the balls of his feet.
“Guess we could. You got any fruit in your pockets, a banana or two, maybe, or a couple of apples? Apples are good right now—I’ve been picking them out of Miss Biedelman’s orchard.”
“Nah.”
“Then you’ll have to just come back to the elephant barn with me and cut some for us. Your aunt know you’re here?”
“Yeah, she knows. She’s going to come back for me later, maybe in a couple of hours.”
“Well, we’ve got some time, then. Tell you what. I’ve got some chores to do before we can go off with Hannah, but you can come along and give me a hand, as long as you don’t get in the way and don’t rile Hannah. Say that back to me.”
“Say what you said?”
“Yeah, what I just said.”
“I can come along if I don’t get in the way and don’t rile Hannah. That means don’t piss her off, right, mister?”
“Yeah, just a prettier way of saying it. Your aunt, does she know what you were going to do, coming to see me and all? I don’t want to do anything that might upset her.”
“Yeah, she knows.”
“Okay.” Sam opened the gate leading to the barn and ushered Reginald in ahead of him. It wouldn’t hurt to show him the ropes a little bit. It would be best not to tell Harriet Saul about it, though.
“How come it’s so cold in here?” the boy asked as they went into the food prep room. “Feels like the damn North Pole.”
Sam shot him a look that said, Your language, son, and Reginald looked away. “It’s not that cold,” Sam said. “Course, I shouldn’t say that, seeing as how I’ve never been to the North Pole myself. You been there, a great traveler like you?”
“Naw. I just imagine it.”
“Imagining is good. You know some grownups go through their entire lives without using their imagination a single time? Now, I call that a waste.” Sam set apples and bananas and carrots on the counter. “All right, son, here’s what I want you to do. You take these apples and bananas, and you cut the apples in quarters, the bananas in halves, and the carrots you can leave alone because they’re just little ones anyway. Think you can do that? That knife’s real sharp, so you’ve got to be careful, got to keep your mind on your work.”
“Yeah, I can do that. That’s not hard.”
“Well you must be experienced, then. Me, I found it real hard at first—kept having to fetch my mind back every two minutes because it kept wanting to fly away like some big lazy bird. I nearly cut my finger off one time. See that scar?”
“Uh huh.”
“Happened when I was cutting a melon for my girl and forgot what I was doing for a minute. Next thing I know, I’ve got blood all over the place—took six stitches to get it to stop. Hannah wouldn’t eat that melon, either. It must have made her mad, me getting so careless like that and ruining a perfectly fine piece of fruit, especially because melons are her favorite thing besides Dunkin’ Donuts.”
“I got stitches once, in my head.”
“Is that right? You have a scar from it?”
“Right here.”
“Uh huh. I see that. You’re lucky your brains didn’t escape right out of there before you got it patched up. Brains like to go their own way sometimes. I had an uncle who got a cut no bigger than yours and next thing we knew, he couldn’t even talk right.”
“Aw, that’s just a story.”
“Nope. The poor man never did have a complete thought after that. He’d come out with a half-a-one sometimes, but he never could finish what he started. It was about the saddest thing I ever saw. Only thing he could do right after that was shuck corn. He was a champion corn-shucker, but where’s that going to get you?”
Reginald shrugged.
“See there?” Sam waggled the knife at him. “That’s why you’ve got to start out your life with all your wits protected. You never know when you might lose a few, and you want to always have extra if you can, especially since the good Lord doesn’t always start us out with an equal number. Now Hannah, she got extra wits right from the get-go, and not only because she’s bigger. She’s just plain smart and she always has been, as long as I’ve known her. You, now, I bet you’re pretty smart, too. But I’ve only just barely got enough, so I’ve got to protect what I’ve got extra carefully. My wife Corinna’s real smart. I bet your aunt is, too.”
“Naw. She’s good at yelling, though. She can yell real loud when she wants to get on you about something.”
“Well, yelling real loud, that’s an important skill to have, too. You never know when you might walk right in front of a train and her yelling’s all that stands between you and eternity. But for that yell, you’d be flat, and there’s nothing worse than a flat boy, just kind of ruins the day for everyone.”
Reginald started giggling. “You tell a pretty good story, mister.”
“Me? Naw. I’m just an old man who’s seen a lot of things in my time. One day you’re going to be just like me, except better looking.”
Corinna didn’t use to open the Beauty Spot on Mondays, but she’d started doing a half day to put a little extra money by for when Sam retired. She hadn’t told him yet, even though she’d been doing it for a couple of months now. If he knew, he’d fuss, so she just happened not to mention it, though she wasn’t used to keeping secrets.
The fact was, Corinna was worried almost to distraction. Sam was having those Hannah dreams three, four times a week now, and sometimes more. Before long Hannah was going to be getting donuts every single morning, and if they couldn’t figure out what to do, Sam would die a working man.
Corinna sighed and turned the coffee maker on, then opened the door for her first customer of the day. Debby Mitchell was a pretty thing, tall and slender like a model, except she taught high school, not even thirty yet. “Hey, sugar!” Corinna said. “How’re you this morning?”
“I’m okay now that I’m here. There was so much traffic I thought you might not see me until tomorrow.”
“Well, you’re here now, baby. Just relax and settle back.” Corinna put a smock over Debby and rubbed her shoulders and neck, something she did for her favorite customers. Debby had been coming to the shop for nearly fifteen years now, since she was in high school herself. “So what are we doing today? You want to relax it again?”
“No, I won’t be doing that for a while.” Debby’s eyes were full of sparkle.
“Girl, you got a secret?”
“I do, but if you promise not to tell, I’ll tell you.”
“Honey, one thing I know how to do is keep my mouth shut. You should know that by now.”
Debby pressed her hands together, palm to palm. “Louis and I are going to have a baby.”
Corinna took the girl’s pretty head in both hands and gave her a kiss on the forehead. “Aw, congratulations, sugar. When are you due?”
“Not until late May. I don’t see how I’m going to last that long, though, I’m so excited to see her.”
“You pretty sure it’s a girl?”
“Pretty sure.”
“I thought so, too, and you know, I was right. Course, that was a long time ago.”
Debby turned in her chair to look at Corinna straight on, instead of through the mirror. “I didn’t know you and Sam had kids.”
“Just one. Things didn’t work out, though.” Corinna got her scissors and a fresh comb out of the cupboard. “So what are we doing, shug? Taking it down real close?”
“Yeah, I guess so.”
“That or we’re going to be braiding ’til the cows come home, honey, with all the hair you’ve got.”
Debby twisted around in her chair again. “Were you preoccupied when you were pregnant? I can’t concentrate for beans.”
“I don’t remember, hon,” Corinna lied. “It was an awful long time ago.”
“I’m all over the place like a bead of water on a hot skillet, and Louis is almost as bad as I am. We’ve been trying for a while.”
“I’m real happy for you both,” Corinna said. “If she looks even halfway like you, honey, she’s going to be beautiful.”
“What a nice thing to say!”
Corinna patted the girl’s cheek. “You ready for me to start?”
“Go ahead and work your magic.”
“I don’t know magic, sugar. I sure wish I did,” said Corinna, raising her scissors to begin. She had known the instant she became pregnant, had been so sure she’d never even had herself tested. She didn’t know how she knew; she just had. She and Sam were wild in love, and then a baby coming. Their cup had been full.
Corinna had loved being pregnant. She’d been thinner in those days and she’d started showing early. She never had a day’s sickness, never felt tired until the very end. Sam had been proud enough to pop; sometimes when she’d looked up in the evening he would be watching her with tears in his eyes. He never would say anything, just those looks and a little extra blinking when he knew he’d been caught. How many nights she’d lain in the dark, her hands on her belly, and marveled at how much the Lord must love her, to bring such good fortune her way. There were no special vitamins in those days, no ultrasound or amniocentesis. Mostly Corinna had just let nature take her where she wanted, whether it was to a big plate of meat loaf or to fried chicken every night. The body took care of its own.
And the baby had been a dancer all through Corinna’s waking hours, or at least it had seemed that way. Sam could feel the baby just about any time he wanted to, just put his hand on Corinna’s big belly and wait a minute or two for her to swim over. Corinna saw a doctor two or three times, and every visit, the baby was just fine—good heartbeat, good weight gain.
Corinna’s mother had come to be with her at the end; showed up with a suitcase full of crochet hooks and a rainbow of yarn, never having been one for idle hands. The night Corinna went into labor, Corinna, Sam, and her mama were laughing at some fool radio program when her water broke, making a spot on their brand-new sofa. You could still see its outlines like a ghost if you knew where to look.
Sam had called a taxi—they were still too poor to own a car—and helped her in. She had never known a short ride could take so long. Her contractions started hard and stayed that way. At the hospital Sam held her hand and told her that he loved her and then they made him go sit in the waiting room like hired help. Of course, that’s the way they did it in those days. It didn’t seem fair, though, not even back then.
Corinna had labored in silence so she could feel her body working, feel the baby working, too. And it was all fine for a long time, until all of a sudden, out of nowhere, she heard a soft beating of wings and a small, sweet whisper like a soul might make when it passed. She cried out, but the attending nurse said no, everything was fine. Then the baby came, and she was perfect in every way, except, of course, she was dead.
Corinna had spit on God that day; told Him she was turning her face away forever. She wanted nothing to do with a God who’d trick her like that, get her and Sam all saturated with love and then change His mind without so much as an explanation why. From then
on, for Corinna, her life was just her and Sam and a little bit of luck thrown in from time to time.
Neva Wilson spent nearly her entire day off chasing down necessities: paper towels, Kleenex, and toilet paper; dishwashing detergent, sponges, canned goods, and soda; a new shower caddy, shampoo, conditioner, and soap. This was the part she hated most about moving. You went to make a sandwich and, damn it, you’d left your mustard in New York. Or you knew exactly which cupboard had the honey, but that was in San Diego. She’d be the first to admit she wasn’t a homemaker. By six o’clock in the evening she was in a foul mood. Grabbing a baseball cap off the top of her TV set she stuffed her not-quite-clean hair underneath, got back in the car, and headed for the zoo.
To her surprise, she saw flickering lights in the elephant barn when she pulled up. She looked in the window as she approached and, of all things, she saw Hannah watching Star Wars on the barn’s wide-screen TV with Sam and Corinna. Sam was sitting in one of the armchairs with his foot up on an overturned steel bucket, while a big, beautiful woman removed a gauze dressing. As she pulled the barn door open, Neva overheard Sam saying, “I know, Mama.” Both of them jumped when she appeared in the doorway, which made her jump.
“I’m sorry—am I interrupting?” she said.
The wound on Sam’s foot looked old and serious. The woman moved to block Neva’s view, quickly finished applying ointment and a fresh dressing. “Mama was just fixing up a cut I got the other day,” Sam said, pulling his sock up over the bandage. “Just me being clumsy, miss. How come you’re here so late?”
“I didn’t want to be at my apartment anymore, and I’m sick of running errands, so I thought I’d come down here and keep Hannah company for a little while.”
“Well, pull up a chair,” Sam said. “This is my wife Corinna. Sugar, this is Miss Wilson.” To Neva he said, “Course, she knows all about you.”
“Uh oh.” Neva smiled as Corinna held out a warm, soft hand.
“Sam’s told me all the good things you’ve done for the baby.”
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