Mama would’ve had me swear on the Bible to sit still if she could’ve. But, seeing as she couldn’t find it in any of the boxes Daddy’d already packed, she made me swear on her hand, which she said was just as strong a promise as God making Abraham a great nation and Moses getting the Israelites to the Promised Land.
I solemnly swore that I’d keep my backside on the davenport and not move so much as an inch no matter what. And that I’d keep the mask over my nose and mouth at all times. So help me God.
We’d gotten home from the hospital in Boise City just the night before and Mama’d hardly let me roll over in bed without fussing over how it would wear me out. She worried something awful about me getting sick again.
“I can’t be watching you,” she said, standing at the table and wrapping her good water glasses in pieces of newsprint. “Doc Clem said you’ve gotta rest. I agree with him, so don’t you give me that look, missy. I don’t need you getting worn-out. And straighten up that mask, would ya?”
I stayed put like she’d said to, wishing I had something to do besides watch her and Daddy rush around, getting things put in crates and boxes.
It wouldn’t have hurt my feelings if Ray thought to come by to talk to me. I hadn’t seen him since the big storm, the day we lost Beanie. I feared he’d stay away and we’d leave and I would never get to talk to him again.
Good-byes were hard, I knew that much. But leaving would only sting worse if I didn’t get to see him one last time.
Millard had been there all day long, helping Daddy and trying to keep Mama smiling. She fretted over if her dishes would survive the trip or if we’d have some place to sleep along the way. She even worried that she didn’t have anything good to feed Millard for all his work getting us packed.
“All I’ve got is beans and bread now with the store closed like it is,” she said, wringing her hands. “And I can’t even heat them up. Tom packed all my pots and pans already.”
“Don’t you fuss over me,” Millard told her. “Beans and bread’s never killed me before. Don’t think it’s like to today.”
The hurt of missing him had already set in and we hadn’t even left yet.
Mama scooted me off to bed before it was even dark. I tried to argue, but Mama would have none of it.
“You’re not all the way healed up yet, not even close. It’s gonna take awhile,” she said, pulling my by the hand to the stairs. “If I had my way I wouldn’t have you going up and down these steps, even. They take too much out of you.”
“I’m all right, Mama,” I said. “I feel fine.”
She gave me a sideways look that told me she didn’t believe me for a minute. Mama always had a way of knowing when I was speaking lies.
“We’ve got a big day tomorrow.” She’d gotten me up in my bedroom and helped me out of my dress and into a fresh nightie. “I need you to get a good night’s sleep.”
Mama’s big day was us driving away from home, leaving Red River and all of Oklahoma behind. I didn’t think I’d have minded if Jesus decided to come down and rapture us up to heaven before the sun rose on Mama’s big day.
She helped me get into bed and pulled the covers up tight under my chin. I wasn’t cold, but I was tired so I didn’t fight her.
“Now, how about you say your prayers,” she said, sitting on the edge of my bed.
I recited a prayer she and Meemaw’d taught me when I was smaller, skipping the if-I-die-before-I-wake part. I didn’t want to upset Mama.
Besides, it seemed a hard thing to have in a child’s prayer. Real hard.
Before I finished the prayer I peeked to see if she had her eyes closed. She did not. Instead, she was turned at the waist, looking into the closet. The door stood open showing Beanie’s dresses still hanging there, forgotten in all the packing. I imagined her box of treasured things was on the shelf, untouched. My sister hadn’t owned a single thing of value to anybody but herself. She liked keeping whatever she found in the old, left-behind shacks after folks moved away. Tarnished spoons and torn hankies and maybe even a broken pencil. She’d see them and they’d find a home in her pockets and under the bed or in the dresser.
Beanie had a way of seeing treasures in what most folks saw as flawed and worthless.
My amen got choked up in my throat.
Mama kept staring at those old dresses of my sister’s. She’d made every one of them, mended them whenever Beanie got them snagged or ripped. I wondered if they still smelled like my sister, those dresses, the way the pillow next to me did.
If loss had a color it was tan. Flat and dull and smelling like must.
“Go on to sleep, Pearl,” Mama said, her voice thin and far away. “I have faith everything’s gonna be all right.”
I closed my eyes, hoping sleep would come fast and hoping I wouldn’t carry that sadness over with me to my dreams. If I could’ve wished for something right then, I’d have left the sorry feeling in that closet and closed the door.
“There’s nothing to be sorry about, darlin’,” Mama whispered.
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.