A Trail of Crumbs

by Finkbeiner, Susie;

  “And, if you think of it, grab up a handful of grass and stick it in one of them letters you send me,” he said. “It’s been so long since I seen somethin’ green.”

  I promised I’d do just that.

  Everything we were taking was packed into the truck. The davenport sat where it always had, right under the big window in the living room. Mama stood beside it, feeling of the upholstery, whispering about what a shame it was to leave such a fine piece of furniture behind.

  I decided I’d best not point out the worn spots on it or how one of the springs liked to poke up at folks’ behinds. Being quiet was a good idea right then.

  Daddy stood in the doorway, rubbing his hands together. He bit at his lip and let his eyes wander around the living room. He nodded and made a noise like he was clearing his throat.

  It was time.

  Ray went out first, followed by Millard and Daddy. I made my way around the room, running my finger along the wall, steering around the davenport and Meemaw’s rocking chair, walking my fingers over the top of the table. All of it we were leaving behind. I thought if we ever did come back, it would be waiting for us.

  Mama’d gone to the kitchen, checking the cupboards one last time. Finding nothing, she slammed the last one shut. It hit so hard, the door bounced open, barely missing her head.

  She said a cuss and slapped at the counter, holding on for dear life. Then she started sobbing, making the same horrified sounds from the night Beanie died.

  It didn’t go on long, her crying. When it’d passed, she used the collar of her dress to wipe her face dry. Holding herself steady, she turned and took in a couple shaky breaths.

  Seeing me, she reached out, taking my hand. Her fingers were cold.

  “It’s all right,” she told me.

  She left the cupboard hanging open.

  Daddy double-checked everything he and Millard had packed on the truck, making sure nothing was like to blow off or crush Ray if we went over a bump. The rest of us stood together, not saying a word, watching him work. I wondered if we’d stand there in front of the house for hours, no one ready to pile in and drive away from Red River and Millard.

  Every few minutes Ray looked over his shoulder toward the sharecropper cabins. No matter how much he checked, his mother didn’t come. I wondered if he hoped she’d change her mind and pack up to go along with us. Or if he wished she’d come to take him to Arkansas along with her.

  The least she could do, I thought, was to see him off.

  But she didn’t come. I knew from the pit of my heart she never would.

  “Ray?” Daddy went to him, putting a hand on his shoulder. “You wanna drive past on our way?”

  “No, sir.” Ray shook his head and stood a little taller like he had his pride to think of. “We already said our good-byes,” he said, hardly louder than a whisper.

  “You’ll see her again soon,” Daddy told him. “I have faith she’ll stick by her word. She will find her way to you one of these days.”

  Ray nodded and turned away from all of us. I didn’t watch him. I knew how he hated for anybody to see him cry.

  “Guess we’d better get going,” Daddy said. “If I don’t now I might lose my nerve.”

  Mama was the first to go to Millard. They shared a couple words and a quick hug before she stepped aside.

  Millard went to Ray and stood beside him a minute, keeping quiet the way men did. When Ray turned to him, Millard took his hand and gave it a firm shake.

  “I’ll sure miss you, son,” he said. “I’m real proud of you. You’re a good man.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Ray said.

  “You’ll need to watch after Pearl for me,” Millard told him. “You keep her smilin’, will ya?”

  Ray promised.

  I was sure grateful for it.

  It was my turn next and I didn’t know that I had the courage to leave him behind. He came, stooping down to face me before giving me a kiss on the cheek.

  I started crying again and he rubbed my back. “It’s all right, darlin’,” he whispered.

  Closing my eyes I remembered when Daddy got me out of Eddie’s cellar, how Millard had taken me in his arms.

  I got her, he had said. It’s all right.

  “I love you,” I said, my voice so quiet.

  I hoped he’d heard it. It was the first time I’d told him and I wanted to be sure he understood.

  “I love you, too,” he told me back. When he wrapped his arms around me, he whispered in my ear. “If you ever need me—I mean really, really need me bad—you give me the word and I’ll get on a train. I’d do that for you, Pearl.”

  I nodded.

  “I’d do it for you,” he said again.

  Millard Young had never gone back on a single one of his promises.

  Not even once.

  Daddy climbed into the truck beside me. His hands shook and he wiped the palms against his thighs. He kept his face forward, eyes open wide. His mustache wiggled as he bit at his upper lip. As hard as he held onto the steering wheel I thought he was like to snap it into a hundred pieces.

  “Ready?” he asked, not turning to look at Mama or me.

  “Just go,” Mama said, looking out the window.

  He started the engine and waved at Millard one last time before pulling away. Turning, I watched Millard waving back, his big hand in the air. He got smaller and smaller and I kept my eyes on him until Daddy turned off the main street of Red River toward the road that would take us away from home.

  Not one of us said so much as a word for a long time. There wasn’t anything to say.

  “I ever tell you about the last time Jed Bozell came to town?” Daddy asked after we crossed the line outside of Cimarron County.

  He’d been telling me stories about Jed Bozell and his traveling show as long as I could remember. I never did know if the stories were true or not. It didn’t matter so much, though. I just liked it when Daddy got to storytelling, tall as the tales might be.

  “Now, Jed and his show came around town every year, always in the summer.” Daddy tapped the steering wheel with the heel of his hand. “Folks would save up nickels and dimes to see whatever attractions he brought with him. It was a different show every time.”

  I already knew that much, but didn’t say anything to interrupt him.

  “Guess I must’ve been seventeen that last time. School had been out a full month and I’d been working alongside Millard in the courthouse.”

  “What job did you do?” I asked.

  “Oh, a little bit of everything. Anything that needed doing,” Daddy answered. “My pa died the winter before and I had to make money any way I could to take care of Meemaw.”

  In my whole life I could only remember a handful of times when Daddy mentioned his father. Mama didn’t talk about her folks much, either. I did know they were dead like Daddy’s pa was. I wondered if we’d stop talking about Beanie, too, after a while. Seemed the way of things.

  “Anyhow, I could hear the commotion of Jed’s men setting up for the show all day long. Couldn’t hardly work for the distraction.” Daddy glanced at me. “Problem was, I knew Meemaw would have supper waiting when I got done working. You know how she hated to serve a meal cold.”

  I nodded.

  “Well, I got out of the courthouse and decided I’d just take a quick look-see.”

  “What did he have in the show?”

  “Little bit of everything. Sure did go all out on that trip. He had this kangaroo that’d box anybody if they’d pay a dime.”

  “Why’d anybody pay for that?” I asked.

  “Darlin’, a man’ll pay about any price to prove he’s stronger than a goofy-looking creature like that.”

  “Did the kangaroo ever win?”

  “Every single match. That kangaroo had a nasty uppercut.”

  “Tom …” Mama said. “Don’t fill her head—”

  “And he brought the world’s stinkiest pig.” Daddy made a hooting noise. “We couldn’t get
the smell of that thing out of town for a full month.”

  “What did it smell like?” I asked.

  “It’s not polite to say.” He winked at me. “Now, Jed had set up a grandstand at the far end of the grounds. I made my way to see what was going on there, forgetting all about Meemaw and supper. By the time I did remember I was stuck in the middle of a crowd pushing me forward toward the stage.”

  “How did you get out?”

  “I’ll get to that.” He cleared his throat. “Well, there on the stage was Jed Bozell himself. Turns out he wasn’t just the ringmaster, he was also a performer. Bozell the Amazing Pretzel Man.”

  Mama sighed and shook her head.

  “I never would’ve thought it, but old Jed was sure flexible. He bent and twisted himself into all kinds of knots. Didn’t know how he did it. Never did figure it out, either,” Daddy went on. “He pulled his legs over his head and folded in half. Then he stood on his hands and reached his feet up behind him to play a piano.”

  “How’d he play it?”

  “With his toes.” Daddy waggled his eyebrows at me. “Played a little Beethoven if I remember right.”

  “Mama,” I asked, “did you see him, too?”

  “Can’t say I did,” Mama answered, not turning her face from the side window.

  “Well, I remember seeing your mama there.” He let out a whistle. “Boy, was she ever pretty in her yellow dress with her hair all loose around her shoulders. Almost spent as much time watching her as I did old Jed.”

  Most days, when Daddy said a thing like that Mama would blush. She’d smile and turn her eyes to her lap in a way that made her look real pretty. That day, though, she didn’t blush. She just turned her shoulder so her back was to Daddy and me and she kept her face toward the window like she didn’t want to miss anything as we passed it by.

  It was like she’d stuffed her ears with cotton and didn’t hear a word Daddy said. I thought about telling her she was being rude, ignoring Daddy after he’d paid her such a nice compliment, but I didn’t want to be accused of being a sass mouth just then. I kept my trap shut.

  “Halfway through Jed’s pretzel show I started smelling the carnival food. Buttered corn and fried dough and … goodness, everything you can imagine. It made my stomach rumble.” He wiped at his mouth like he was drooling. “That’s when I remembered Meemaw was waiting supper for me. I thought I was in for a whole world of trouble.”

  “Did you get home in time?”

  “Nah. Never did. When I looked to my right I saw Meemaw standing there, her eyes wide and staring at Jed Bozell.”

  “Meemaw told me Jed Bozell wasn’t real,” I told him.

  “Course she’d say that. She didn’t want you to know she was smitten with him just like all the other ladies in town.”

  “Mama, were you smitten with Jed Bozell?” I asked.

  She just snorted and gave me a look that told me she thought it was all ridiculous.

  “No. Your mama never had eyes for anybody but me,” Daddy said.

  “Not that you know of.” She gave him the same look she’d just given me.

  “Maybe,” he said. “But I’m the one who got ya in the end, sugar.”

  He winked at her and gave her a crooked smile. She repaid him with a roll of the eyes that irked the dickens out of me.

  “What did Jed Bozell do next?” I asked, not wanting Daddy to stop his storytelling.

  “Well, he got himself all untangled and stood up tall in front of us.” Daddy tipped the brim of his hat back and scratched at his hairline. “And he told us he was done. He wasn’t coming around to perform anymore.”

  I leaned forward, waiting for Daddy to say that Jed Bozell disappeared in a puff of smoke or took off his mask to reveal that, really, he was an ape in disguise. Every one of Daddy’s stories about Jed Bozell ended with something silly, something impossible.

  “Then what?” I asked.

  “The crowd gasped. A couple women cried even. It was hard news to hear.”

  “Why did he quit?”

  “Said the traveling got him feeling lost. Like he didn’t have a place in the world.”

  Daddy stopped talking and I knew the story was over. Just like that. He drove past a man standing by the side of the road. The man waved and Daddy waved back. It was an Oklahoma thing to do, waving at folks or tipping hats at them whether we knew them or not.

  I rested my head on the back of the seat and closed my eyes, picturing Jed Bozell as I’d always imagined him. Long and lanky, with wild hair and big feet. He wandered, moving in circles and zigzags and going one way only to turn and go back the way he’d come. Lost.

  Then I imagined him on the path to a nice house. A good one. One with a door painted yellow. He opened the door and a big smile spread all the way across his face before he stepped inside, closing the door behind him.

  CHAPTER SIX

  We drove until dark that first day. We made it deep into the middle of Kansas—that was what Daddy told me, at least. Seemed more like the middle of nowhere to me. Either that or the middle of No Man’s Land, Oklahoma. It didn’t look one bit different from where we’d come from. All around us was dust, dust, and another helping of dust for good measure.

  I didn’t tell Mama or Daddy how disappointed I was in Kansas. I’d at least expected something green, maybe even a tree or two. And I had thought I’d have felt different being in another state.

  How I felt just then was buried in dust I couldn’t seem to get out from under. I worried we’d get all the way to Michigan just to discover that the whole United States of America had gotten ruined by the dirt.

  I said a short prayer to God, asking that He wouldn’t let it be so. Besides, I thought if I had to wear that mask one more moment I’d go batty.

  Daddy pulled over to the side of the road, saying we’d camp out there for the night. He and Ray unloaded a couple bedrolls and got a fire going. I imagined getting to sleep out under the stars right beside the flickering flames. I wouldn’t even need a bedroll. I’d have been happy just to be right on the ground.

  Laying on my back, I would have gazed up at the sparkling stars, letting the moon glow white on my face. It was a clear night and I knew if I’d had the chance I would be sure to see at least one shooting star. I knew just what I would’ve wished for but wouldn’t tell a single soul for fear it wouldn’t come true.

  The warmth of the fire would glow all the way down one side of me, making me lay comfortable and sleep easy. There would be no sound but the crackling flames and the lullaby of a far-off coyote.

  I blinked away the thought, though. Mama never would have allowed any of that. As it was, she worried about the dust settling back into my lungs even there in the truck. She handed me a plate of food and told me to shut the door while I ate it inside all by myself.

  “It’s just too dusty here, darlin’,” she told me.

  I hated to admit she was right.

  Mama filled the morning chill with the smells of bitter coffee and toasting bread. More than once she told us she was sorry she didn’t have anything better to offer by way of breakfast.

  “I thought we’d come across a store by now,” she said.

  “We should sooner rather than later,” Daddy told her, leaning over a map he’d spread out on the hood of the truck. “We’ll just keep our eyes open.”

  “Wish I’d had more to bring along.” She sighed, pouring coffee into a couple tin cups. “All I’ve got is some beans and a couple loaves of bread.”

  “We’ll make do.” Daddy took the cup she offered him and blew over it, making the steam curl up from the coffee. “You’re doing a fine job, honey. You are.”

  She turned her head from him, holding her cup of coffee but not drinking from it. Her cheeks were bright red from working over the fire. When she lifted the cup to her lips, she pulled it away quick like she might get sick. Dumping her coffee onto the ground, she put her hand on her chest, fingers spread wide.

  “You all right, Mama?�
� I asked.

  She nodded her head. “Just not feeling so good is all. It’ll pass.”

  We finished eating our bread and Daddy stomped out the fire. It left a black pockmark in the earth and smoldered for more than a couple minutes before dying out all the way. Mama told me not to get too close to it for fear I’d get a coughing fit from breathing in the smoke.

  Even feeling sick she took to fretting over me.

  I didn’t think she’d ever get over being so worried about me. I pictured myself a full-grown woman still wearing that wicked mask over my face on account Mama’d give me a sour look and sigh if I didn’t.

  “Go on, now,” she said to me. “Get back in the truck. And don’t even think about taking that mask off.”

  Much as I didn’t want to, I obeyed Mama. But when my back was to her I made a sour face of my own.

  Daddy filled the driving time by singing a song or two. His voice was a deep one, not smooth exactly, but still nice enough. Mama didn’t join in even when he asked her to.

  “I’m too tired, Tom,” was all she said.

  Her refusal didn’t stop him from going into a slow and low song, one that made me sleepy to hear it. I rested my head on his shoulder, letting myself drift off to sleep and hoping he’d just keep right on singing until I woke up. I thought his voice would keep me in good dreams as I slept.

  I woke when the truck slowed. Seemed I’d only slept a couple minutes, but from the crick in my neck I wondered if it wasn’t a whole lot longer. When I lifted my head off his arm Daddy leaned forward over the wheel. Something ahead of us had caught his eye. I squinted to see what it was.

  Pulled off to the side of the road was a big truck, loaded high with mattresses and household things like pots and pans.

  “Looks like they got themselves a flat,” Daddy whispered, steering us to a spot on the shoulder of the road.

  Two men squatted beside the big truck, looking at a tire that more resembled a black puddle than anything. They both glanced at us when Daddy turned off the engine.

  “I’m gonna check it out,” he told Mama. “Just wait here.”

  Daddy went to the men who stood when he neared. They shook hands before going back to inspecting the tire. They didn’t say much, those three. One thing I’d learned about men was that they didn’t need too many words between them. Instead they’d nod and scratch at chins or spit. That seemed all the talking they needed to do.