A Trail of Crumbs

by Finkbeiner, Susie;

  The last picture in the album was of Uncle Gus alone. He stood against a building, a cigarette between his lips and his head turned from whoever had the camera. His shoulders weren’t held straight like they had been in all the other photos and his mouth wasn’t turned up in any kind of a smile.

  There he stood, home from so far away. But I wondered if he’d felt like he had returned to something just as unfamiliar as the foxholes he’d left behind.

  Once you go you can’t never come back, Beanie had said to me so many months before, sitting right next to me on the porch of our house in Red River, Oklahoma.

  I wanted to believe that wasn’t true.

  It was after dark when Daddy came to get us, his truck lights blaring through the night. I was half-asleep by them, cuddled up on the sofa, my head resting on Aunt Carrie’s lap. Daddy scooped me up and carried me to the truck. Ray followed behind us, dragging his feet so that I thought he was just as tired as me.

  “Where’s Mama?” I asked once Daddy pulled back out of the drive. “She’s in Adrian, darlin’,” Daddy answered.

  “Where’s that?”

  “Not too far away.”

  “Can I go see her?” I waited for him to answer. He didn’t. “Can I?”

  “I don’t think you better,” he said. “No more questions for tonight, darlin’, hear?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  When we pulled up to the house on Magnolia Street, it was dark. If I hadn’t known any better, I would’ve thought nobody lived there anymore.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  The next morning I rolled over in my bed, listening for the sounds of Mama moving about the kitchen. I expected to smell the perking coffee and frying bacon.

  But then I remembered she wasn’t there.

  Without allowing a single thought of missing her, I got myself up and to the kitchen. Making breakfast would be my job.

  Daddy and Ray sat at the kitchen table to plates of scrambled eggs and sausage and toast. Daddy said he hadn’t had anything that tasted so good in a real long time.

  That surprised me. It seemed he had to force every single bite down. Bert came by, wanting Ray to help him build a wood cage for some poor, unfortunate critter he’d come across.

  “You wanna come see it, Pearl?” he asked.

  I knew he was asking only because he felt sorry for me. Ray must’ve told him about Mama. It didn’t matter to me, really, Bert knowing. Most the town couldn’t hardly talk about anything else.

  I told him I wasn’t feeling so good. It was mostly true.

  Stacking the dishes, I managed to get them all the way to the kitchen before dropping the lot of them. They made a great crack and smack against the floor, just missing my bare toes, sharp breaks in each of Mama’s good china plates.

  Dropping to my knees I did what I could to fit the pieces back together, wishing I had the power to un-break them.

  “Pearl?” Daddy said, walking toward me fast.

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I didn’t mean to …”

  “What happened?”

  “They were too heavy.” I held up a shard of plate in each hand. “I can fix them.”

  “Are you hurt?”

  I shook my head and bit at my bottom lip. “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s all right, darlin’,” he said, his voice soft. “I’m not mad at you.”

  My eyes blurred and I couldn’t keep hold of myself anymore. Daddy didn’t shush me and he didn’t tell me everything would be all right. We both knew that might not be true.

  What he did do was wrap his arms all the way around me and pick me up from the smashed plates. He let me sob from the deepest part of my aching heart.

  When I’d calmed a little, Daddy had me sit on the davenport. He pulled the rocking chair up close so our knees almost touched. He breathed in and out of his mouth and bit at the inside of his cheek. More than once he shifted in his seat like he couldn’t seem to get comfortable.

  “Is it my fault?” I asked before he got the chance to say anything. “What do you mean?” he asked.

  “It’s my fault she left, isn’t it?”

  “Darlin’ …”

  “I made her upset.”

  “Pearl, if she was so upset she’d leave, it was her own fault.” He leaned his elbows on his legs and let his hands hang between his knees. “She’s a grown woman, honey. She’s smart enough to watch after her own feelings.”

  “But she is gone, isn’t she?”

  “It’s just, your mama …” He pushed his lips together so hard his mustache almost reached clear to his chin. “Yes. She is.”

  “Isn’t she ever coming back?”

  “I don’t know,” he said. “I do hope so.”

  “What if she doesn’t?” I folded my hands and held them on my lap. “What if she stays gone forever?”

  My shoulders sunk into the back of the davenport and I let my head drop so I was looking at my hands. Tears drip-dropped onto my lap. Daddy moved forward in his chair so he could get closer to me.

  “Go on, darlin’. Say what it is you’re thinking,” he said. “It’s all right.”

  I didn’t have words to ask what was so bad about me that both my mothers’d had to leave. And there wasn’t a way for me to tell him how scared I was that he’d catch on and take off, too.

  “Why would she leave?” was all I could manage.

  “Now, I don’t know.” He kissed my cheek and used his thumb to wipe away a couple tears from under my eye. “But there’s always a chance she will come home.”

  “How do you know that?”

  Daddy shut his eyes hard like he was trying with all his might to hold together. Then he sat back in his chair and turned his head so he could cough a little into his fist.

  I half expected him to tell me a story from the Bible the way Meemaw would’ve. I thought she’d have told about how Peter turned away from Jesus but came back later on, full of sorrow. She would’ve said how Jesus forgave him. Part of me wished Daddy would say something like that just then.

  But Daddy’d never been one for preaching.

  “I ever tell you about the time my pa was sick?” he asked.

  “No, sir,” I answered.

  Daddy had only ever mentioned his pa a handful of times, if that. And when he did it was a quick word about him doing this or that to make Meemaw go out of her mind with his teasing her. I’d always liked hearing about him. Daddy’d told me if I’d ever met him I might have called him “Pawpaw.”

  I missed him. Or maybe I missed the idea of having a grandfather. Even Mama’s father hadn’t lived to see her wedding day. I guessed that was just the way of things.

  I leaned forward, careful not to touch the bandages on my knees for fear they’d rub my sores and hurt something awful. I didn’t want anything distracting me from Daddy’s story about his pa.

  “Guess it’s about time I got around to telling you more about him, then,” Daddy said, his eyes on the floor at his feet. “He was a good man. Real good. Born and raised in Red River.”

  “Did he know Millard?” I asked.

  “Course he did.” Daddy smiled with the far-off look in his eyes he got when he was telling a true story. “They got into lots of trouble together when they were younger. At least that’s what I understand.”

  Using his hand, he wiped under his nose.

  “He loved Meemaw, my pa did. Did all he could to show her.” He nodded. “I don’t know that he ever said the words to her. He wasn’t a talker, my pa wasn’t. He did show her every day. I do believe she understood.”

  Daddy reached into his shirt pocket and took out a cigarette, holding it between his fingers.

  “I was right around sixteen when he took sick. It was summer. Wouldn’t let us send for a doctor. He had too much pride.” Daddy licked his lips. “Went to work every day no matter how sick he was feeling. He said that’s what a man did. Said he had to provide for his family.”

  He held that cigarette between thumb and finger, rollin
g it one way and then the other.

  “He got so skinny. Lord, I thought Meemaw’d go crazy with all the times she had to make his clothes tighter. I punched the extra holes in his belt myself. He just wasted.”

  I sat, staying quiet so Daddy could tell his story without me interrupting him.

  “He got so he couldn’t get himself outta bed. There wasn’t hardly anything left of him.” Daddy cleared his throat again. I didn’t think it was from being hoarse. “Right before Christmas that year Meemaw told me I oughta go tell him good-bye. I tried to be a man and be strong. Couldn’t, though. Just could not.”

  I reached for the hand that wasn’t holding the cigarette and held it in mine. One thing I’d learned was that holding hands was safe-making. It gave courage. The way Daddy squeezed my fingers real gently told me he thought so, too.

  “My pa let me cry and he patted my knee. Must’ve took it all out of him to do that patting. He couldn’t hardly keep his eyes open.” Daddy shook his head. “When I was all cried out, he told me he was proud of me. Said he wished he’d get to see me as a man. I promised I’d do my best to make him proud.”

  He put that unlit cigarette back into his pocket and put both his hands on mine.

  “It was real hard on Meemaw, having Pa die like that, watching him waste away to nothing the way he did.” He scratched at his stubbled cheek. “It took her a real long time to be herself again. Lord, do I ever miss him. Both of them.”

  “Daddy, is Mama going to be all right?” I asked.

  He sighed and nodded.

  “She’s not dying, if that’s what you’re asking.” He shook his head. “I guess what I’m trying to say is there’s hope. Just so long as she’s still breathing, there’s hope she’ll make her way back home.”

  “Why did she leave us?” I asked, my voice sounding small and thin. “She just did,” he answered. “Sometimes folks just do things for no good reason.”

  I cried and he held my head to his chest and I heard his heart pounding.

  CHAPTER FORTY

  Nighttime was when I missed Mama most. The quiet of the house on Magnolia Street set to ringing in my ears until the roof settled, popping and creaking and making me still with fear. I rolled this way and that, getting my bedclothes all twisted and tangled around me. The pillow wasn’t right so I flipped it over and punched it back into shape. My feet were too warm so I kicked the blanket off them. I just could not seem to get comfortable no matter what I tried.

  I gave it up and got out of bed.

  If I’d had so much as an ounce of courage, I might have gone right out the back door and walked all the way to the twisted tree in the middle of the woods so I could cry my eyes out over losing Mama the way Miss Ada had for her boy. It wasn’t the thought of raccoons and possums and coyotes that kept me from so much as touching the doorknob. It was knowing that Miss Ada’s son hadn’t ever come back. It made me remember that Mama could stay gone forever, too.

  Instead, I sat at the kitchen table with the lights off and imagined that Mama was on her way back home. I pictured her making her way right then. That she’d gotten to missing us real bad and meant to be with us first thing in the morning.

  I shut my eyes and pictured our house with its orange and yellow marigolds making sunny dots along the walk to the porch. Daddy’d stand beside me in the green grass yard that he’d cut fresh so it would look nice when Mama turned the corner to our street.

  She’d come walking, her suitcase hanging from one hand and handbag slung over her shoulder. Her body would move slow, weary from traveling from so great a distance. Her face would be wet with fresh tears.

  I’d see that her mouth was moving with silent words, rehearsing, no doubt, her begging-for-forgiveness speech. She’d be ready to beg us to take her back, even if just so that she could work as our maid until she’d proven she wouldn’t stray again.

  I’d hesitate just a moment, feeling the weight of missing her one last time and the hurt she’d done when she left me behind.

  But I wouldn’t be able to hold back long. Not even as hard as I tried. I’d run, fast as I could, not caring how unladylike it was. I’d get to her and wrap both my arms around her waist, holding her so tight she’d never be able to leave us again.

  There’d be no fattened calf or fine garments for us to give. Not even a parade with all the folks in town singing along with the booming band.

  But Daddy would come down the path, Mama’s wedding ring in his hand. He’d slide it back on her finger where it belonged.

  All would be set to right.

  The end.

  But doubt had wriggled like a worm into my heart. Even if she did come back, we’d never be back to how we’d been.

  In the morning I made a list of all the things we needed from Wheeler’s general store. Flour and sugar and canned things. We needed some meats and dry goods, too. Opal told me she’d go, but I told her I didn’t mind. Ray went along with me to help pull the wagon back to the house.

  Mama hadn’t been gone three days and already we were running out of everything, it seemed.

  The door of the store was propped open and we walked in without the bell dinging to announce we were there. Mr. Wheeler stood off behind one of the shelves with a woman I recognized from here and there. I couldn’t remember her name just then, and that didn’t matter much at all to me.

  The two of them spoke in hushed tones, just between them. But they weren’t hushed enough that Ray and I didn’t hear what they were saying.

  “I haven’t gotten a paper delivered in days,” the woman said. “I went by Abe’s office and the door was locked.”

  “He’s left town,” Mr. Wheeler said.

  “You don’t say.”

  “I do.” Mr. Wheeler moved closer to her. “Mrs. Spence is gone, too.”

  “The policeman’s wife?” she asked.

  “A little strange, don’t you think?” Mr. Wheeler said. “They both end up being gone at the same time?”

  “Very strange,” the woman said, her voice almost more manly than Mr. Wheeler’s. “I’d say there’s something funny going on.”

  “I wondered about her from the first she walked into this store.” Mr. Wheeler cleared his throat. “Something was off about her.”

  “Maybe that’s the way down there,” the woman said. “I hear they’re real backwoods down south.”

  I stood at the counter holding my list. It shook and my grip crumpled it up all along the one side.

  “I never would have guessed it of Abe, you know,” Mr. Wheeler went on. “I’ve known him all my life. Never would have guessed he’d go after a married woman.”

  I let go of the list, letting it flutter to the floor. And I went right out the door making sure I stomped hard with every step so they’d know I’d heard them. There was nothing I needed so bad that I couldn’t ask Opal to get it for me.

  It felt like Mama’d slapped me all over again.

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  The morning of the first day of school I wore a new dress that Mama’d sewed out of a flour sack for me over the summer. I had five new dresses that she’d made, one for each school day of the week, and each was a different color. One was yellow and another blue, one had green plaid and another had polka dots of many colors. The one I liked best of all, the one I put on that morning, was black with a thousand little yellow and white daisies all over it.

  Facing the mirror in my room, I watched my reflection as I pushed the buttons into their holes. Mama’d never seen me wear any of the dresses. She hadn’t even gotten around to having me try them on.

  Boy, was I ever glad they fit anyhow.

  I wished so hard that I could just be angry with her for leaving. That I could rage and spit and steam over what she’d done to us. But the sadness was sharper than the anger. At least it was then. And whenever I let myself get all worked up over Mama I’d just end up crying for how hard I missed her.

  I wanted her back.

  Shaking my head, I decided I cou
ldn’t boo-hoo over her that morning. I tucked the feelings into the corner of my mouth, biting on the inside of my cheek to remind myself to forget her, at least for a little bit.

  Opal had bleached my socks real good so they wouldn’t look dingy under my new, spit-shined black shoes. I even wore Meemaw’s locket, careful to drop it under the cotton of my dress so it wouldn’t get snagged on anything that might break the chain.

  After a couple failed tries at getting my hair into a bow, I asked Opal if she wouldn’t mind helping me. She made quick work of pulling back half my hair so it would stay out of my face.

  I sure was glad Daddy’d asked her to help us get ready for school. Before I went downstairs for breakfast, I tried to imagine what Mama was doing just then. Maybe she’d found herself a job there in Adrian. Cooking at a restaurant or cleaning a hotel. Maybe she was taking in laundry or watching kids for some rich folks. She might’ve even found herself a job working at a hospital. She’d always said that was what she’d have done if she hadn’t married Daddy.

  Whatever it was she’d found to do, I wondered if she remembered it was the first day of school. I wondered if she worried over me having a good day and making friends.

  Again, I told myself to forget her and pushed aside any feelings I had for her.

  I put away my hairbrush and went downstairs where Daddy stood waiting for me. He gave me a nice grin and told me how pretty I looked.

  “My girl Pearl,” he said. “Now, you be sure not to break too many hearts today, hear?”