I watched Ray and the tan-colored dog playing chase out in the front yard. Ray’d run one way and the dog would go after him, big slobbery tongue flapping out his mouth. Then Ray would jump and run the other way, teasing the poor critter to keep coming along.
The way that boy hooted and hollered made it seem like he was having the very best time of his life.
When I asked—even begged—Mama to let me go out, she just shook her head.
“You’re sick,” she said.
“I’m feeling fine now, Mama.”
It was almost half-true. At least I felt better than I had the night before when a coughing fit near turned me inside out. They’d even sent for the doctor to come and give me medicine that made me feel all shaky and full of jitters.
He’d called it asthma. Said it was what happened sometimes after a bout of pneumonia. If somebody’d asked me I would’ve said too much was made about it no matter what name he called it.
“You can’t spend the whole night coughing and gasping and tell me you’re fine.” Mama crossed her arms over her chest. “You’re staying put for today.”
“But Ray—” I started.
“I won’t hear a word of it, missy,” Mama said. “Just watch him out the window. That’s fun enough.”
Much as I wanted to, it wouldn’t have done a thing for me to throw a snit fit over it. Staying inside and watching was nothing like running all over creation with Ray and that dog, but I didn’t say that to her. Sassing Mama was a dangerous endeavor even if I was sick. Especially since Daddy usually took her side in the end.
I obeyed and stayed put.
Aunt Carrie told me she had a couple magazines I could look at if I wanted. I told her please and thank you and took the stack up to my room to read.
The famous lady airplane pilot Amelia Earhart was on the cover of one of them. I’d heard about her on the radio but hadn’t ever seen what she looked like. Her hair was cropped like a man’s, but she had curls that made it look pretty enough. Her leather jacket was open over a nice blouse and she leaned back against her airplane.
What made my eyes grow wide and my mouth drop was that she wasn’t wearing a dress or a skirt. She had on a pair of slacks. I thought they sure looked smart on her even if Mama thought they were sinful on a woman.
I read the article about her quick the first time, then slow the second. I could hardly imagine it, a woman flying over oceans and mountains and fields. Seemed it would be real scary, especially flying all by her lonesome like she did. And at night, even.
I wondered what it had been like for her to jet through a cloud or look down from miles up in the air. What had the world below looked like from her airplane? I was sure it was real pretty.
Mama wouldn’t allow it, me going up in an airplane like that. She liked me sticking to earth, staying in out of the sun and rain, and never having fun ever again. At least that was how I felt just then.
But if Miss Earhart came knocking, things might be different.
She’d stand on Aunt Carrie’s porch, leaning back against the railing with her arms crossed. She’d have on her slacks and her leather hat with the goggles built in.
We would invite her in and she’d sit in the rocking chair, with Ray and me on the floor close to her feet so we wouldn’t miss a single word.
She would tell about how she had learned to fly and how nervous she’d been that first time in the air. Then she’d go on about flying all the way across the sea. She’d have plenty of stories of adventures she’d met all because her mother hadn’t told her to stay inside and be safe.
I’d wonder if she ever got lost, flying so much. When I’d get the chance, I would ask her. She would smile at me and get a faraway look in her eyes. Leaning forward, she’d make sure I was listening real close.
“Of course,” she’d whisper just for me to hear. “Everybody gets lost sometimes. What matters is finding your way home.”
Then she’d have Ray and me take turns riding in her airplane. She’d fly nice and low so Mama wouldn’t be too nervous.
And all the kids in town—Big Bob and Hazel, too—would feel jealous of us. They’d want a ride, too. But there wasn’t time for that. Amelia Earhart had come just for Ray and me.
When it was time for her to leave, she’d take off in her plane, doing a loop the loop that would get all of us to clap and cheer.
I’d wonder how she didn’t fall right out of her seat, doing a thing like that. It didn’t matter, I guessed. She’d go flying off to her next grand adventure, waving as she went.
And there I’d stay, on the ground, with the flying feeling still in my heart and stomach.
Man alive, did I ever hope one day I’d get the chance to fly.
For the better part of the afternoon, Daddy sat on the porch talking with Mayor Winston. Daddy smoked a couple cigarettes while Winston had his cigar. Both of them sipped at cups of black coffee and accepted cookies when Aunt Carrie offered them.
I was glad that Aunt Carrie offered me a cookie, too, even if I had to leave the sofa in the living room to eat it in the kitchen. I missed out on hearing all the two men were saying, but her cookies were worth it.
“Don’t spoil your supper,” Mama told me when she walked past, a basket of laundry balanced on her hip.
“Just one cookie, hear?”
“Yes, ma’am.” I put the cookie on my napkin and took a drink of milk, feeling the cool of it touching my lip and making a mustache.
“Wipe your mouth,” Mama said. “Don’t drink so fast.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I said again. “Mama, what’re Daddy and the mayor talking about?”
“None of your beeswax.”
With that she stepped outside to hang the wet clothes on the line.
I finished my cookie and went back to the sofa in the living room. By then, though, the mayor was long gone and Daddy was putting out a cigarette in the dirt by the porch. When he straightened up, it seemed he stood taller than before.
That night I sat in the bedroom doorway listening to Mama and Daddy talk in their room. Their door was closed, but I could still make out what they were saying.
Ray stood behind me, his shoulder resting on the doorframe.
“We’ll just be renting it,” Daddy said. “Fella that owns it is giving us a good deal.”
“That’s fine,” Mama said. “Just so long as it’s got a roof and walls, I’ll be happy.”
“It’s got a good deal more than that, darlin’,” he said. “The kitchen’s nice. Plenty of space. It’s got an icebox even and a good cookstove.”
“Don’t get me worked up, Tom,” Mama told him. “I won’t be able to sleep.”
“The porch isn’t so big as ours was in Red River. Still, you can fit a swing on it if you want.” Daddy went on and I closed my eyes, trying to picture a place so perfect as he described it.
It was a house painted a pretty shade of yellow with green shutters framing big windows that let in so much light we’d never have to turn on a lamp so long as it was daytime. There was a fireplace to keep us warm in the winter and plenty of shade trees to cool us in summer.
There’d be room enough for Ray and me to have our own rooms and even an extra if we had a guest come over. I thought we’d be able to have Millard come live with us if ever he made up his mind to move.
The yard would be big enough for us to have a garden. We’d grow all the tomatoes and peas and carrots we could eat. There’d be so much room that we’d have to put in flowers of every color in the rainbow. Every day we’d cut a different bunch of them to put in a vase on the dining-room table.
We four could be happy in a house like that. We’d be a family even if not a one of us shared so much as a drop of blood.
Blood didn’t mean anything when it came to making a home.
I’d just about given over to the dream of that house when I heard Mama make a sound that was half sigh and half hum.
“It sounds real nice, honey,” Mama said. “Real nice.”
They didn’t talk for a minute or two. Daddy’s belt buckle clinked and Mama yawned.
“You sure you’re happy taking that job?” she asked.
“I am. It’ll pay just enough.” His voice was firm and steady.
“Didn’t you want to look for something else? Something different?”
“I’d miss it too much, darlin’,” Daddy answered. “Keeping the peace is all I know how to do, Mary.”
“It’s not all you know,” she told him. “Come to bed, Tom.”
Ray and I went back to our beds real quick, but not before shutting our door. Somehow we both knew there were some things we didn’t need to overhear.