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.
Off to the side, farther from the road and in the shade of a tall fence, sat a couple women and three small kids. They had a blanket spread out under them like they were having a picnic. Only there wasn’t any basket of food.
Daddy walked around the back of our truck. I heard the clanking of his toolbox and him telling Ray a thing or two. Mama opened her door and got out.
“What can I do?” she asked as Daddy came around, toolbox in hand.
“Well, we have to get her jacked up so we can get another tire on,” he said. “Might take some time.”
“That’s all right.” Mama turned her head toward the women and kids. “Did you ask when they last had something to eat?”
“Sure did. Knew you’d ask.” Daddy took in a deep breath. “Fella said it’s been a good day or two.”
“Have Ray get a fire going. I’ll fix them something,” she said. “Won’t be fancy. But if they don’t mind beans and bread, I’m happy to warm them up.”
“You sure you’re up to it?” Daddy asked in a whisper.
“I’m fine, Tom.”
“I don’t want you overdoing—”
“I said I’m fine.”
Without saying so much as another word they both got moving. In no time Mama set up a makeshift kitchen. Ray and I unloaded every single can of beans she’d packed for the trip like she’d asked us to and she poured more than a couple of them into her pot to warm.
“Hand me that wooden spoon, please,” she said to me. “Then sit down and rest, hear?”
I did as she said and watched her stir the beans, watched the rich sauce bubble and pop as they cooked.
“Mama?” I said to her real soft, making sure nobody else could hear me. “What if we don’t find a store later on? What’ll we eat?”
“I won’t have you worrying about that.” She didn’t look up at me, just kept on stirring. “I reckon they’re much hungrier than we are. We’ll make out all right. Always do.”
She tapped the spoon against the edge of the pot and stood straight, stretching her back.
“Just be sure you don’t say anything to them about it, hear?” She gave me her most serious face. “I don’t want them feeling ashamed.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“You never do know when you might be entertaining angels,” she said.
That was something I remembered Meemaw saying whenever the hobos would come knocking on the back door for a couple slices of bread. She never turned one of them away. Mama didn’t either.
I looked at the women, still sitting on the spread-out blanket with the kids. I’d never seen an angel aside from the ones in my picture Bible. Those angels had long, gleaming robes and fluffy yellow hair. Halos ringed round their heads and they looked stone-cold serious.
Seemed to me, if angels came to earth hoping to test the kindness of humans, they wouldn’t come dressed in white and with their wings hanging out for all creation to see.
No, I figured they’d come in everyday clothes, maybe with a little dirt under their fingernails. Their hair would be greasy and their shoes’d have a hole or two in the soles, if they had any at all. And they’d get themselves stranded in the middle of Kansas, waiting to see who might come along to patch a tire or offer a half gallon of gasoline to fill up a dried-out tank. And they’d see who might entertain them with a plate of runny beans and a cup of hot coffee.
I went back to the truck where my things were kept in a small carpet-bag. Inside was the package with the rest of Millard’s pink mints. He’d sent them along with me, knowing how much I liked them. I’d planned on saving those candies for when we crossed into Michigan as a surprise for Ray. I took them all out, putting them, bag and all, into my dress pocket.
When they finished with their beans, I gave that bag of candy to the ladies, saying they were for the children. One of the kids, a little girl with a dirty face, said thank you so nice I couldn’t help but smile.
She giggled when she popped one in her mouth. I didn’t think I’d ever heard anything in all my life that sounded so like an angel.
That night Mama said I could sit out by the fire with Daddy for a couple minutes before bed. I curled up beside him, his arm holding me near. I couldn’t take my eyes off the tongues of flame as they licked the little bits of wood Ray fed them. The heat was almost too much on my face, but I didn’t want to move away from it.
“Daddy,” I whispered.
“Hm?”
“Are we rich?”
“No, darlin’. The Rockefellers are rich,” he answered. “We’re doing all right, though.”
“Are we poor?”
“Almost. But we do fine, I guess.”
“Those folks today, they’re poor, aren’t they?”
He told me they were. Said they were real poor, indeed.
“Why does God make some people rich and some people poor?”
He shifted a little so he could see into my face.
“That’s a big question, isn’t it?” He pinched his lips together the way he often did when he was thinking real hard. “I don’t know as God makes anybody rich or poor. I think that’s just how life is.”
“Then why doesn’t He make it so everybody’s got equal?”
“Well, I don’t know the answer to that,” he said. “But what I do know is that sometimes He uses the rich to help the poor. And every once in a while He lets the poor help the rich.”
“How do the poor help the rich?” I asked, scrunching my nose.
“By giving them a chance to be kind.”
Daddy helped me up to my feet and told me I best get to sleep. He held the door of the truck until I got all the way inside and told me and Mama to sleep well.
She didn’t even look at him.
Mama settled down next to me on the seat of the truck and I pretended to fall asleep. She kept her arm draped over me like she meant to protect me. That was how I fell asleep, drawn up close to her and feeling her slow, deep breathing. Her body warmed me and I felt safe.
I woke in the middle of the night. Mama was sat up and had my head in her lap. She held something in one hand. With the other, she covered her mouth, catching her sobs. I thought she was trying not to wake me.
“Mama?” I asked, pushing myself up so I was closer to her.
She turned from me, putting her face into a shadow.
“You all right, Mama?”
Even though she didn’t answer me, I knew she wasn’t okay.
I put my arms around her, my face against her stomach that tensed with each bout of crying. Like she’d done so many times for me, I told her it was going to be all right.
After a bit she caught her breath and calmed a little. I kissed her cheek and tried looking in her eyes. She stayed in that shadow, though.
“Why don’t you lay back down?” I asked. “Get some rest?”
She did and I reached for the blanket that’d fallen off us, putting it over her.
That was when I saw what she had in her hand. It was a picture of Beanie. I asked if I could see it and she nodded, handing it to me. I put it in a beam of moonlight that shined on the dashboard.
It was a photo of my sister from before I was even born. Beanie was so small, her cheeks so round. She had on a dress with puffy sleeves. I wondered if I’d ever worn that dress once I got big enough. In the picture, she sat on a swing, holding the two ropes on either side of her. Daddy stood behind her and I imagined he was pushing her. He had his usual happy smile on.
As for Beanie, she didn’t look at the camera and she didn’t smile. She had her eyes trained on something off to the side.
Just looking at that old photograph caused an ache to spread all the way through me. Missing Beanie felt like a deep burning that wouldn’t ever go out no matter how much water I tried tossing over it.
I knew very well that the Bible was full of stories of folks dying and then coming back to life. There was a little girl and a couple grown men, even a lady named Dorcas. Meemaw’d told me they’d all been dead, and even in the tomb. But by the power of almighty God they rose up and took fresh air into their lungs. She’d told me there were even a couple of them that wanted lunch soon as they could ask for it.
But that was the Bible and I wasn’t living in those times. No amount of begging God was bringing my sister back to me.
I cried myself back to sleep, that picture of Beanie pinched between my fingers.