A Trail of Crumbs

by Finkbeiner, Susie;

  I thought she must’ve read my mind. She was wrong, though. There was plenty to be sorry for. It heaped up in my heart and spilled over with no hope of stopping. I knew I’d be sorry about losing Beanie in that dust storm for as long as I lived.

  It wasn’t morning yet, I knew that much, still I was awake with no hope of falling back to sleep. Some kind of noise woke me. I heard it again. A knocking.

  Using the bed frame, I pulled myself to standing and held onto it until I got settled on my feet. Somehow I made it to the bedroom door with no problem. Running my hand along the wall I made it to the top of the stairs and lowered myself to sit, already winded from those few steps.

  I couldn’t see him, but I knew it was Daddy that was up and answering the knock at the door. His cigarette smoke filled the house, tendrils of it reaching me on the stairs, tempting me to fall into a terrible coughing fit.

  “Luella,” he said.

  It was Ray’s mother.

  “I know it’s late,” she said.

  “It’s all right,” Daddy told her. “Come on in.”

  Shuffling footsteps and then the door closed.

  “I’m sorry to wake you,” Mrs. Jones said.

  “I was up.” Daddy cleared his throat. “I can get Mary out of bed if you need her.”

  “No. Don’t wake her.”

  “Well …”

  “I come to talk to you.”

  “Have a seat then,” Daddy said. “I’ll try and find where Mary packed the coffee.”

  “I won’t stay long. Don’t fix nothin’.”

  “All right.”

  “I heard about a job,” she said. “Over in Arkansas.”

  Daddy mm-hmmed.

  “A family that way needs somebody to come do housework, watch their kids.” Mrs. Jones kept her voice quiet, calm. “My sister wrote me about it. Guess it pays good, that job.”

  “Sounds fine,” Daddy said. “You need money to get over there?”

  She didn’t tell him yes or no. What she did was sigh so loud it sounded like it came all the way from her toes.

  “Problem is I can’t take Ray with me,” she said. “That family don’t want nobody with kids.”

  “What are you asking for, Luella?”

  She didn’t say anything right away and I wondered if she ever would, long as she waited before answering him.

  “Take him with you to wherever y’all are goin’,” she said. “Please.”

  “Luella …”

  “I’ll send money once I get some saved up,” she said. “If he’s any trouble I’d come get him.”

  “He’s a good boy. He’s never been any trouble,” Daddy told her. “Can’t imagine it’s in him.”

  “He can’t have a good life with me,” she said. “I can’t give him nothin’.”

  “I don’t think that’s true,” Daddy told her.

  “Will you take him?”

  Daddy made a sound like he was pushing air out his nose. “I don’t know, Luella,” he said. “Don’t you understand the boy needs you?”

  “He don’t,” she said.

  “Why don’t you come with us?” Daddy asked. “We’d help you get on your feet up there. You know Mary’d be glad to have you.”

  “I can’t do that, Tom.”

  “What’ll you tell Ray?”

  “That he’ll be going with you. That I’ll come get him when I can.”

  “Will you?” Daddy asked. “Will you come get him?”

  She didn’t answer and that told enough.

  I imagined Daddy standing in front of her, his arms crossed, and her, stoop shouldered and staring at the floor, her fingers pushed tight against her lips.

  “We’ll take him,” Daddy said after a long quiet spell. “You got an address where you’ll be?”

  She told him she did and I heard the scratching of lead against paper.

  “Ray ain’t good at writin’,” she said. “He don’t gotta write if he don’t want to.”

  “He’ll want to, Luella.”

  “Could be.”

  “Take this,” Daddy said. “It’s not much, but it should help buy a train ticket or something.”

  “I can’t take no more from you.”

  “It’s all right, Luella.”

  The next thing I heard was the door opening and closing.

  Mrs. Jones was gone.

  I always thought I’d be happy to have her leave Ray for us to keep. But just then all I could think on was how it would break his heart.

  I’d gotten myself stuck there on the steps, my legs too weak to push me up and my arms too tired to pull on the railing. Daddy found me there and shook his head, climbing up the stairs to rescue me.

  “How long you been there?” he asked.

  I shrugged.

  “Long enough to hear Mrs. Jones?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Well, you don’t gotta tell Ray what you heard her say, hear?”

  I told him I’d keep it to myself.

  Daddy picked me up and carried me to my bedroom. He was careful to keep my feet from knocking against the doorframe as he walked through it. Daddy always was careful with me.

  “If I was a betting man I’d put money on Mrs. Jones coming to get Ray before three months is gone,” he said. “That’s what I’m hoping for at least. For his sake.”

  “You think he’ll cry?”

  “He might. But he won’t do it in front of you.”

  I knew Daddy was right about that.

  “How long will it take to get to Michigan?” I asked. “Will it take a month?”

  “Nah,” he said, lowering me into my bed. “Maybe a handful of days if nothing goes wrong. Lord, do I hope nothing goes wrong.”

  “Do you think I’ll like it there?”

  “Can’t imagine you wouldn’t.” He covered me up. “Gus said it’s real nice this time of year at his place. Plenty of things growing and blooming. Said he’s got a heifer about to calve, too.”

  “You think he’d let me pet it?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Will we get a place of our own?” I asked.

  “After a little while.”

  “Can we have a garden?”

  “I do believe we can,” he said. “Your mama will look real pretty in a garden all her own. She won’t even have to water it.”

  “She won’t?”

  “Nope. It rains there plenty.” He squatted down next to me. “Everywhere you look is greener than anything you’ve ever seen before. Fields full of crop far as you can see. Late summer you can pick a fat tomato for your supper with an ear of corn to go along with it.”

  “Is there a school there?”

  “Course there is. I’ll bet it’s a fine one, too.”

  “Will Ray go to school?”

  “Sure he will.”

  “He can’t read,” I said.

  “Then your mama will teach him.” He smiled at me. “I’m getting you all riled up, aren’t I? You best get some sleep.”

  I nestled into my bed, feeling tired enough to sleep another few hours. Daddy put his hand on my head.

  “Things’ll be good there,” he said. “Do you believe that?”

  I did and I told him so.

  I couldn’t see how anything could go wrong in such a beautiful place.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  I tried picturing it in my mind, how it would be on the day we left Red River.

  I imagined us putting the last few things on the truck, moving slow and not saying much of anything. We’d put some of Beanie’s things in a box, one Mama didn’t know about just then. A box we’d show her later on when she was some healed up from the stab of losing her.

  After we’d finished loading up, Daddy would give me a wink and reach for Mama, putting his kiss on her temple. He’d tell Ray to come on, too. Ray would feel strange about sharing in that family moment until Daddy put a hand on his back and called him “son.”

  Mama would make sure to let him know he was one of us now.

&
nbsp; She’d let a tear or two drop from her eyes when she took one last look through the house to be sure she’d gotten everything. It had been her home as long as she’d been married to Daddy. She’d made it a good place for us to live.

  I’d take Mama’s hand so she’d know I felt it too, the leaving. We’d stand together, the four of us, taking our time in the last minute or so before stepping outside.

  Once we did walk out, I’d try not to look at the house too close for fear I’d never be able to leave it. That place was all I’d ever known.

  “Well, I guess we oughta,” Daddy would say, turning toward the truck.

  Ray would climb up in the back, settling in for the ride. I’d let him be there by himself for a bit. Men needed to be alone in moments of sadness, I knew that much.

  Nodding, Daddy would open the passenger side door and take my hand, helping me climb in. I’d shimmy over to the middle of the seat and wait for Mama to slide in beside me. She wouldn’t right away, though. She’d be caught up in Daddy’s arms, the two of them giving one another a little comfort. Daddy’d whisper something into her ear and kiss her hair the way he did sometimes. I’d ache right along with them, but I’d keep it to myself so they wouldn’t worry about me more than they already did.

  “At least there’s still us,” Mama would say, leaning back to look full into Daddy’s face. “We’ll be all right. You’ll see.”

  Daddy would make sure Mama got up into her seat and that the skirt of her dress was all tucked up under her so it wouldn’t get slammed in the door. He’d take his time getting around to his side, stopping to check a few things on the truck to be sure it would run without any problems. He’d see to Ray, asking if he was all right.

  Ray’d tell him he was. Daddy wouldn’t believe him, not all the way, but he wouldn’t push him. He’d know Ray was going through a real hard time, leaving his mother like he was.

  “Here,” Mama would say, pushing up against me. “Rest your head on my shoulder a spell.”

  I would, and she’d hum a little song to help me relax the way she had when I was real small and upset about something or other.

  I imagined Daddy getting in on the other side of me and turning over the truck engine. When he eased the truck away from the house I would turn and look out the back window. It was my own way of telling home good-bye.

  The truck would run smooth over the road leading out of Red River. Smooth and quiet.

  The only person out and about that day would be Mad Mabel. The orange and red sunrise would glow on her wilted wedding dress and she’d stand out front of the church, blowing kisses at us as we drove away.

  On the morning of the day we left Red River, Mama was sore at Daddy. I knew by the way she didn’t meet his eyes and how she’d hardly said so much as boo to him since breakfast.

  He tried, Daddy did, to get her to smile. Used all his tricks like calling her sugar and cracking a joke. Not a one of his attempts worked. Seemed to just make her more and more upset.

  When I asked her why she was angry, she sighed and told me just to keep still on the davenport. I knew I remained under the don’t-move-an-inch Bible promise of the day before. I could’ve sworn that if I had to sit on my behind any more it would flatten out just like a flapjack. I wondered what Doc Clem would say about a thing like that.

  Right around midmorning Mama and Daddy came down the steps, one after the other, arms loaded with quilts and pillows, both of them red-faced. I didn’t think it was from all the rushing around.

  “We can’t take the davenport,” Daddy told her for the tenth time that morning. “We don’t have room.”

  “You haven’t tried.” She made her voice hard as a rock, like she did when she wanted to get her way.

  “Where are we gonna put Ray if we’ve got that big old thing in the back?”

  “Maybe you should’ve thought about that.”

  He stopped beside the table and turned to her. “Mary, we will make him feel welcome.”

  “But what’ll we sit on once we get there?” She dumped her pile of linens on the table. “We’re already leaving so much.”

  “Gus said he’s got plenty to let us have once we get a place.”

  “Did he say he’s got a davenport for us?”

  Daddy sighed and hung his head.

  “We can’t take it, Mary,” he said. “That’s it.”

  “I’m not leaving without it.” She stomped her foot and crossed her arms.

  “I thought you couldn’t wait to get out of Red River.” He shook his head at her. “I seem to remember you saying you’d kill yourself if we didn’t move. You remember that?”

  “And you refused to budge,” she said, her voice icy. “And we lost our daughter because you wanted to stick it out. Darn near lost Pearl, too. Now I get to be the stubborn one. I’m not going anywhere without this davenport.”

  “Have it your way.” Daddy turned toward the front door. “But when I pull that truck away from the house, that sofa is not going to be on it.”

  She let out a frustrated howl.

  They went on back and forth like that, neither of them like to win. So I shattered my promise to stay put and got myself up off that old, lumpy davenport Mama held so dear and made my way, slow and steady, out the front door and closed it behind me.

  Neither of them seemed to notice.

  Standing on the porch I looked out over what I could see of Red River. It’d turned more ghost town than anything with plenty of memories left to haunt.

  Still, I had enough good recollections that might’ve given me cause to smile on any other occasion. Some day I’d need them to soothe the ache I’d feel for the place. I didn’t believe anything could ever feel like home again.

  If I’d even had one ounce of strength in my legs I would’ve wandered around all by my lonesome. Cupped my hands to see in the windows of the empty shops along the main street, tiptoed through the alleyways. Visited the abandoned sharecropper’s cabins and the overflowing Hooverville, looking one last time at the folks living there and their slapped-together shacks.

  If I hadn’t been so weak I would have sifted the red Oklahoma dirt through my fingers, feeling the land I’d most likely never see again.

  It would be my so-long to a whole lot of ruin.

  Ray would’ve gone with me if I’d asked him, but that sort of wandering needed doing alone. It wasn’t just the lame legs that kept me on the porch. It was fear that held me there. That fear was newer in me than the desire to wander. It’d been born the day Eddie DuPre hopped off the train and it grew after the black storm barreled down on us, sucking Beanie’s life away.

  So I just sat down on the porch, my elbows resting on my knees and hands holding up my chin, a mask covering the better part of my face. I never would’ve admitted it, but I was feeling sorry for myself something awful.

  Millard came around the side of the house and hefted a toolbox into the back of the truck. He was one to whistle while he worked unless he had a plug of chaw in his lip. When he did whistle, he’d waggle his eyebrows up and down. Most days it would’ve made me laugh. Not that day, though.

  I didn’t think anything could cheer me up, not just then at least.

  “How long you been sittin’ there?” he asked, seeing me out the corner of his eye.

  I shrugged.

  “You not feelin’ good?” He took a couple steps toward me.

  “I’m all right,” I answered. “This mask is awful. Wish I could tear it right off.”

  “Don’t it work?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe.”

  “That’s fine.”

  Pointing his finger, he told me to make room for him on the step. I did and he sat beside me. Fishing around in his pocket, he pulled out a pink candy and put it in my hand.

  “I found them in Boise City when I was up there,” he told me.

  “Thank you.” I pulled the mask away from my face a bit and popped the sweet into my mouth. It worked up a good spit and soothed my sore throat.
r />   “You remember my comin’ up to see you?”

  I told him I didn’t.

  “Didn’t figure. You was in and out, up and down. I was sure worried about you. We all were.” He put a piece of the candy in his own cheek. “I come a couple times to sit with you.”

  “I’m sorry I don’t remember,” I said.

  “Nah. Don’t bother me none. Wasn’t there to be remembered.” He put an arm around my shoulders. “Some of the best things we do ain’t remembered by anybody but God.”

  I wondered if he’d got that line from Meemaw. It sure did sound like something she would’ve said.

  “Can’t you come with us?” I asked. “We’ve got plenty of room.”

  He licked at his lips and blinked a couple times. “Wish I could.”

  “You could eat all the tomatoes you want,” I said. “And Mama could make you a blueberry pie whenever you had a taste for one.”

  “Wouldn’t that be somethin’!”

  “Daddy said it’s green as anything you could ever imagine.” I took his chin in my hand, turning his face so he’d look right at me. “Millard, please come with us.”

  “Pearlie, I can’t,” he whispered. “My place is here.”

  I dropped my head so it rested on his chest and bawled my eyes out. He held me close, letting me cry as long as I needed to.

  “Old men like me have a hard time leavin’ a place they’ve known most their life. No other place’d be home for me. That’s all there is to it, darlin’.” He put his hand on the back of my head. “I sure am sorry, Pearlie.”

  What I wanted to say was that it wouldn’t have to be home, Michigan wouldn’t. It wouldn’t be for me, either. But it could be a place where he’d be happy anyway. Happy along with us. With me. I wanted to tell him I’d even call him “grandpa” if he wanted. But all that came out was my sobbing.

  “You’ll write me, will you?” he asked, his voice thick like it was in the days after Meemaw died. “Tell me about all the trouble you and Ray’re gettin’ into up there. I’m sure you’ll find plenty.”

  I nodded, my cheek rubbing against his soft flannel shirt.

  “Tell me about that new school and all you’re learnin’.”

  “Yes, sir.”