I kept my spot on the porch keeping my eyes on Ray and Bert. They stood facing each other, Bert holding the frog on the palm of his hand and Ray with his arms crossed. They both jumped when that critter took a flying leap to the ground.
Served them both right.
Daddy and I sat on the front porch back at Aunt Carrie’s farmhouse. We’d spent a good part of the day at the house on Magnolia Street and I was worn-out even if Mama hadn’t let me lift a finger. He held a cigarette in his lips, fumbling in his shirt pocket, trying to find a match. I watched as bats flitted through the dimming sky. They darted and dove, black forms against darkening blue. If we were good and quiet we could hear them squeaking. Daddy said that was how they found their way.
Deeper and deeper the night sky turned. The moon came out as only a sliver of itself. It didn’t give off much light that night, but the stars made up for it. Bright pricks in the sky numbered higher than I could count.
I thought of Abraham hearing God, so clear, telling him he’d be the father of more children than there were stars in the heavens. I wondered if the sky over Abraham had been the same as the one over me that night. Had there been more stars then or less?
And was he afraid, knowing he’d have that many kids to watch over? From all the Bible stories I’d heard between Meemaw and church, I’d learned his children ended up being a rebellious and stiff-necked people. They weren’t ones to follow close or to listen up.
That must’ve vexed Abraham something awful.
“You see that there?” Daddy asked, pointing at a gathering of stars. “That’s Cassiopeia’s chair. And if you turn your head just right you’ll see Ursa Major, the Big Dipper.”
I tried making pictures out of the stars like I did the clouds but couldn’t seem to make it work. Maybe if I’d tried harder I would’ve seen them but my eyes were tired.
“That bright star,” he said. “See it?”
I told him I did.
“That’s the north star. You ever get lost at night, you follow that star. It’ll lead you home.”
I nodded even though I didn’t understand.
All the stars looked the same to me.
“Ray,” I whispered across our borrowed bedroom. “You awake?”
“Nope,” he answered.
“Don’t be smart.”
“Can’t hardly help it.”
It was too dark for me to see him real good, but I did imagine him grinning at his own joke.
“Ray?”
“Huh.”
“You excited about the new house?”
“I guess so,” he said. “It’s sure nice.”
“I’m gonna miss Aunt Carrie.”
“It ain’t that far, Pearl.”
“I know.”
Ray sat up on his bed, his outline dark against the white wall. “Wanna know what Bert told me?”
“Bert Barnett?”
“Yeah,” he answered. “Wanna know?”
“Is it about his dumb old frog?”
“Nah, it ain’t.” He waved me over. “Come here and I’ll tell ya.”
I did as he said, careful to keep quiet so Mama wouldn’t wake up. He made room so I could sit at the foot of his bed. I folded my legs up under me and faced him.
“You’re sure you wanna know?” he asked. “I don’t wanna give you nightmares.”
“Oh, come on, Ray. Just tell me already.”
He leaned forward. “Remember how the woods’re haunted?”
I nodded. I’d told him about the cabin and the twisted tree and all Big Bob had said about the wailing ghost woman.
“You think it’s true?” he asked.
“What I think is that it’s the stupidest thing I ever heard,” I told him. “I’ve been out there. I didn’t see a single ghost.”
“Ghosts don’t never come out in the day, Pearl. Everybody knows that.” Ray crossed his arms over his chest. “Ghosts is night creatures. Bert said them ghosts’re callin’ out for the souls that didn’t find their freedom.”
I swatted my hand at him, trying to make him think I didn’t buy into any stories of ghosts and ghouls. From all the fairy tales I’d ever read, though, I’d learned that the forest was the place for ogres and witches and all kinds of evil. Still, I didn’t want Ray thinking I was a fraidycat.
“I guess a handful of kids got lost out in the woods a couple of years back,” Ray went on, whispering and leaning in. “Nobody found a one of ’em. Not a trace. They looked all over the county. All over the state, even. They thought they’d all disappeared into thin air.”
I inched closer to Ray, knowing how big my eyes were just then and how I was holding my breath so I could hear his every word.
“But then one of them kids came back. A boy just about my age. He escaped in the night somehow and got himself all the way into town.” Ray looked directly into my eyes. “The boy fell down right in the middle of the road, screaming about the ghosts and devils and the haints in the woods.”
I gasped, putting my hands to my lips.
“Then what happened?” I asked, careful to keep my voice to a whisper.
“He died.” Then Ray plopped right back down in bed, pulling the sheet up over his shoulders. “The end.”
“Ray Jones,” I said, shaking him by the arm to get him back up. “You can’t just end a story like that.”
He only responded by shutting his eyes even tighter. I knew he wasn’t asleep, not the way he was fighting not to laugh at me.
“That story isn’t real,” I said, getting off his bed. “It’s just a dumb old ghost story.”
Going back to my side of the room, though, I just knew I was in for a night of bad dreams.
I pinched myself, trying to stay awake.
But the dreams won.
Ghosts swirled through my nightmare. They wove in and out of the trees, the birds and squirrels chattering and twittering away from them.
And in their hushed and shaking voices, they called out for me by name.
“Pearl, come be with us,” they half sang. “Stay with us forever.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Aunt Carrie sent us off the next morning with a couple dozen eggs and plenty of bottles full of fresh milk. She made Ray and me promise to come visit whenever we wanted. She made sure we knew there was no such thing as wearing out a welcome when it came to family.
“You know the way,” she told us. “You are always wanted here.”
Uncle Gus followed behind us, both his and Daddy’s trucks loaded down with chairs and tables and bed frames. Each piece was something Aunt Carrie had insisted she had no use for anymore.
A couple field hands that worked for Uncle Gus rode along to the house on Magnolia Street. Mayor Winston was on the porch waiting for us to get there. They helped carry things in, waiting on Mama to tell them where it all belonged.
In the middle of the day we ate sandwiches Aunt Carrie had packed and drank coffee Mama perked on the stove in her brand-new kitchen. The men sat on the floor of the dining room since the table and chairs weren’t unpacked yet. All but one of the men, at least.
He sat out on the back porch to eat on account he was a Negro and Mama had rules.
I thought about reminding Mama to be aware of entertaining angels, but I decided against it. She never would have allowed that an angel might come covered in brown skin and with wooly black hair on his head.
Mama wasn’t prejudiced. She just had her ways. And those ways had been the ways of her parents and grandparents before her. But that didn’t mean they had to be mine, too.
When I knew she wasn’t looking I snuck an extra sandwich to the man.
“Thank you, miss,” he said, tipping his hat. “That’s very kind of you.”
“You’re welcome,” I told him, hoping he didn’t notice how my voice shook.
I’d never been so close to a Negro before in my whole life.
Mama handed Ray and me a list of things to get from the general store. Things like flour and noodles and su
gar and such. All the basics a kitchen should have, she said. It was like we were starting all over again, she told us, from scratch. I guessed that was pretty close to the truth.
Daddy gave a few folded bills to Ray and told him to hold it tight until we got to the store. I was in charge of the list.
All the way there I dragged my feet. I’d been to Wheeler’s store a couple times with Aunt Carrie to get a thing or two. If anybody’d asked me, Mr. Wheeler’s long fingers and sharp-angled face gave me the shivers.
“Come on,” Ray said, grabbing my arm and pulling me along. “He ain’t that bad.”
We crossed the street and made our way to Mr. Wheeler’s store. Ray opened the door, setting the bell to ring, and nodded for me to go in first.
Mr. Smalley’s store back in Red River hadn’t been half as big as Wheeler’s. And the shelves there in Bliss were packed high with cans and boxes and bags of things to eat. Not so much as a spot was left bare, not that I could see at least.
I wondered if his shelves were full because he couldn’t sell all the goods. Uncle Gus had told me that folks in Bliss had plenty by way of food they could grow themselves, but hardly anybody had two pennies to rub together. If they needed something, they’d make a trade. But from what I’d heard, Mr. Wheeler wasn’t one to trade.
Mr. Wheeler watched us from behind the counter as we walked toward him and I wondered if he was worried that we’d steal something. He was the kind of man whose face was stuck in a frown, like he’d gotten himself frozen that way somehow. And his sharp eyebrows always stood at attention, more triangle than arch. Everything about him was sharp and pointy.
I wondered how many years of being ornery it’d taken to make his face look like that. Then again, he might just have been born that way. Hazel had angles and edges just like he did. But she was real mean, too. I guessed I’d never know for sure how they’d gotten that way.
Without so much as a hello or how-do, Mr. Wheeler cleared his throat and asked if we’d brought a list.
“Yes, sir,” I said.
I put Mama’s list on the counter and he took it in his long, slender fingers. Turning, he went about filling our order, leaving Ray and me waiting at the counter. Neither of us said a word for fear he’d turn and cock his eyebrows at us.
The bell over the door tinkled and I turned to see a girl come in. I thought from the looks of her she wasn’t all that much older than fifteen or sixteen. She walked in, her head lowered and her hands still at her sides. She made it to the counter, standing right beside me, her fingers fidgeting with the fabric of her skirt.
I didn’t mean to stare, but I almost couldn’t help it. If I hadn’t known any better I would’ve thought my sister had opened the store door and walked in so she could help Ray and me carry the groceries back home.
The girl had dark-as-night hair that came down in spiraled curls all over her head. She kept them tamed like Mama did with hers, though. Beanie’s had been wild, fuzzing and frizzing and flyaway.
I tried to catch her eye so I could give her a smile. But that girl didn’t turn her head or take her eyes off the points of her scuffed-up, beat-up, worn-down shoes.
She’s not Beanie, I told myself. She isn’t.
My mind knew the truth but my heart wanted to believe something altogether different. Seemed cruel how the heart could hold a hope that was dead as a stone.
Lifting my face, I saw Mr. Wheeler had gathered all the goods on our list and stood behind the counter, glowering over the girl beside me as if she belonged anywhere but right there in his store.
“Ahem,” Mr. Wheeler faked a clearing of his throat to get her attention. “Are you planning on buying anything today, Miss Moon?”
She snapped her head up, breathing in sharp through her nose as if he’d frightened her. That was when I noticed her nose wasn’t quite as pointy as Beanie’s had been. Her skin was a bit darker, not creamy like my sister’s. And her eyes were gray, not hazel.
See? I told myself. It’s not her.
Still, I couldn’t take my eyes from her face. I wanted to be extra sure.
“Mr. Wheeler, I’m still looking for w-work …” the girl started, her face turning red.
“You are, are you?” he asked, turning his back to the shelf and facing her full on. “Looking and working are two very different things you know, Miss Moon.”
“I do realize that, sir.” She swallowed hard. “But I’m sure I’ll find something soon. It’s just a matter of time.”
“You’ve said all of this before,” he said, lifting his chin so he had to look down his long nose at her. “And I still fail to see why any of this matters to me.”
“I was hoping I could have just a little credit until I do find work,” she said. “I don’t need much.”
I bit on my thumbnail trying to think of a way for Ray and me to leave the store. It didn’t seem right, us hearing her beg that way. Mama would not have liked it one bit. Especially how rude Mr. Wheeler was talking to her.
But Mama would also be sore if we left without getting the groceries on her list, so I stayed and kept gnawing on my thumbnail.
“I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t think I could pay it back,” Miss Moon said. “You know that.”
Mr. Wheeler let his eyes flicker to the girl’s face. “Miss Moon.”
“Maybe a dollar or two is all I need.” She lifted her hands so her fingers touched her chin. “And when I get some money I’ll pay you back first thing.”
“Miss Moon, you put me in a bad position.” Mr. Wheeler turned and set to dusting an already clean shelf.
“I don’t understand,” she said.
“Excuse me, Mr. Wheeler, sir,” I said, putting my hand up like I was in class waiting to be called on.
He turned his head, putting his eyes on me, and blinked once real slow-like. “Yes?”
“Sir, how much is the bacon?” I looked at the pile of groceries. “Thirty-five cents,” he answered.
“And the sugar?”
“Forty cents.” He faced me, arms crossed over his chest.
“What about the coffee, sir?”
“A quarter.”
“Can you please put those things back?”
“But they were on the list,” he said, holding Mama’s paper up and waving it.
“I know, sir.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “But we don’t need them just yet.”
“All right. If you say so.”
Mr. Wheeler slowly put away what I’d asked him to, giving me sideways looks with every item. Once he was done, he crossed his arms and pinched his lips together.
“Could you please tell us what we owe, sir?” I asked, trying to keep my tone polite as could be.
He figured our total and told us how much we needed to pay. I took the money from Ray and handed over enough to cover our bill. There were still two dollars in my hand. I knew even one dollar was a lot of money. Two seemed a small fortune. Still, we’d have more soon as Daddy got paid. Folding those bills once then twice, I pressed them into the girl’s hand.
“This should get you by,” I whispered, so Mr. Wheeler wouldn’t hear.
She looked at her hand, tears gathering in her eyes. Opening her mouth, she made to say something but no sound came.
“My name is Pearl Spence. My daddy’s the new police here,” I said in a friendly, out-loud voice. “We live on Magnolia Street. Across from the doctor’s house. We just moved in today. You come and see us. My mama would be glad to know you.”
She nodded.
I whispered again. “I do believe you’ll always be treated kind at my house.”
Ray gathered most of the things we’d bought and I got the rest, trying not to look Mr. Wheeler in the eye to see how angry he might have been.
Ray worried all the way back to our brand-new house about how sore Mama would be at what I’d done.
The boy still had a thing or two to learn about my mama.
Our first night in the new house I heard every bump and squeak and creak. T
he way the light came in through my window made shadows on the walls of floating ghosts and strange-shaped monsters.
I waited until Mama had gone to bed for the night before I slipped out from under my sheet and made my way downstairs. Daddy would be up, I knew. He’d always been one for staying awake late into the night on account he didn’t sleep well.
I found him reading the newspaper, sitting in a rocking chair in the living room, the soft glow of a lamp all around him. When he saw me he folded up that paper and snuffed out his cigarette in an ashtray that balanced on his knee. Doctor Barnett had told him the smoke was bad for me.
“You’re getting stronger by the day, aren’t you?” he asked, watching me walk his way. “I’m glad, darlin’. Real glad.”
He dropped the newspaper on the floor and patted his thigh so I’d come and sit with him. When I sat on his knees it made me taller than him. It sure felt strange to be looking down on my daddy.
“Can I ask you something?” I asked.
“Hm?” He nodded.
“Are there poor people here?”
“In Bliss?” he asked. “Sure there are.”
“Are there poor people everywhere?”
“Yes, miss.” He scratched at his forehead. “Whole country’s in a fix. I’d say there’s more poor folks than rich these days.”
“But not the same kind of poor as in Oklahoma, right?”
“No. I guess not.” He pushed his eyebrows together. “Why? Are you worried about us?”
I told him I wasn’t.
“Because we’re all right, darlin’. This job’s good. It pays enough.”
“I know,” I said.
“What is it then?” he asked.
I told him about Mr. Wheeler, the girl named Miss Moon, and the money I’d given her. He nodded as I went on.
“Ah, yup. Your mama told me about that,” he said. He gave me a half smile. “She was real proud of you for it. I am too.”
“You think she’s going to be all right?”
“Who? That girl?” He squinted at me. “I think so.”
“I think Mr. Wheeler’s a mean man,” I told him.
“You do, huh?”
“Yes.” I shrugged my shoulders. “Mr. Smalley never would’ve talked to somebody like that. He’d have made sure she had something.”
A Trail of Crumbs Page 14
