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.