It takes a few weeks of arguing the pros and cons, but after substantial debate, Diana finally agrees to let me take a job at the rodeo arena. It’s given me something other than River to think about, and my nightmares about East have been replaced with dreams about horses. As soon I’m given clearance to leave the house, I announce I’m going to meet with Mr. Tucker. I can hardly wait another second.
“I’m not comfortable sending you over there alone,” Diana says, not offering to join me.
“I’ll go with her!” Camille shouts, eager as I am to touch a horse.
Diana wrinkles her brow, gives it a thought. “I’m just not sure two beautiful young girls need to be traipsing around a rodeo arena. Doesn’t seem reasonable to me.”
“It’ll be okay,” I assure Diana. “I’ll keep a close eye on Camille. I already know Bump. He’s no danger. And I at least need to pay Mr. Tucker a visit. Offer him my personal gratitude for all his help with the funeral.”
Diana waits an excruciatingly long time to respond. I work up all sorts of arguments in my head. Ready to tell her we won’t be the only girls there. That Janine runs the office. That working with horses is what I’ve wanted to do my whole life.
“Mabel,” Diana says, “do you have time to accompany Millie to the arena?”
I look at Mabel, giving her my best please-don’t-let-me-down look.
Camille smiles, answers for Mabel. “Yes! Mabel can come with us! That’s a great idea!”
Mabel looks sternly at Camille. “Well, I guess it’s settled then,” she says. Then she laughs and adds, “Of course I have time. I’ve always wanted to see what that place looked like.”
Diana finally gives in, and before I know it, the three of us set out to walk across town. Camille. Mabel. And me. As if I have a mother and a sister.
Before we even make it to the corner, Bump shows up, slowing his truck and pulling to the side of the road. “Where you ladies headed off to?” he shouts through the passenger window.
“Matter of fact, we were coming to see you, Mr. Anderson!” Mabel says, holding her hand above her eyes to block the sun.
“Really? Well, I’ll be. Climb on in. I’ll give you a ride.”
Camille climbs into the back, thrilled to be skirting right past Diana’s regular rules of behavior.
Mabel and I pile into the seat of Bump’s farm truck. Me in the middle, right next to Bump.
“Mabel says your real name’s Kenneth?” I ask.
“Kenneth Anderson,” Bump says. “Guys at work call me Bump. On account of this.” He points to his protruding Adam’s apple and laughs. He’s cute in a strange sort of way. Not as skinny as I remember. His smile is friendly.
We pass a group of boys playing catch. “Watch out!” Mabel yells. Bump swerves to avoid a ball, and I can’t keep my balance on the seat. I tilt into him. His arm touches mine. He smiles, says, “I should do that more often.” Mabel gives me a look and I straighten myself up, leaving just enough space between us that our skin doesn’t touch. I turn to check on Camille in the back, but she’s roaring with laughter, having the time of her life.
“So what should we call you? Bump or Kenneth?” I ask.
“Millie, you can call me anything, anytime, anywhere, and I’ll come running.”
Mabel laughs, and I do too. But right in that moment, Bump turns the wheel and I see the arena where Jack took his last ride. The air becomes heavy, and all the laughter dies away.
“You sure you’re up for this?” Bump asks. “Mr. Tucker will hold the spot as long as it takes. No reason to rush.”
Mabel wraps me into a hug and says, “Why don’t we go on back home? We can save this for another day.”
“No, it’s okay,” I say. “It won’t ever get any easier. We’re here. I can do this.”
We all climb down from the truck, and Bump brings us straight to Mr. Tucker’s office. Janine sits drinking coffee from a green mug. She pushes back from her desk all at once, rushing to offer us hugs. “Millie!” she squeals. “Are you here about the job? I sure hope so. Mr. Tucker is going to be so excited!” She says this as she’s walking to get him, and before I can respond, Mr. Tucker is shaking my hand and welcoming me to the crew.
“So when do I start?” I ask Mr. Tucker.
“Right away,” he says. “Bump here will show you the ropes.” He turns to Bump. “That all right with you, Mr. Anderson?”
Bump smiles. “I guess I can manage some time for that.”
Janine nudges him with her elbow and says, “Awful gentlemanly of you, Mr. Anderson.” And before I even know what’s hit me, I’m a member of the rodeo.
After seeing the entire arena and meeting more than twenty horses face-to-face, the three of us decide to walk home. It’s been weeks since I’ve spent any real time outside, and I need to teach my legs how to hold myself up again. I want to get strong enough to start working the horses right away. When Camille skips ahead to climb a tree, I take advantage of the chance to ask Mabel more questions about the box.
“I can’t believe you know about my grandmother. Oka. It seems a strange coincidence, don’t you think? That you know more about Jack’s family than I do?”
“No such thing as coincidence.”
“Mama always told me that Jack wasn’t all bad.”
“He didn’t start off that way,” Mabel says. “He was a sweet little boy. Loved his mother, and Oka loved him. But his father was rough, too rough, and when Jack put an end to it all, it meant he had to leave his mother and brother behind too. I imagine that can harden a person.”
“But why would Mama have married Jack if he had done such things? Killed his own father?” I don’t admit to Mabel that I understand that same dark desire, the desire to kill someone who’s hurt your mother. My stomach turns as I realize I’m not so different from Jack. That he’s not so different from Boone.
“She probably never knew,” Mabel explains. “It’s why Jack came here. To start over.”
“I need to rest a minute,” I admit. We sit on a bench outside the library and watch Camille climb magnolia limbs. It’s still chilly, but the sun is shining so I don’t feel too cold.
“Tell me more about Oka. My grandmother,” I plead.
Mabel puts her arm around me, starts to fill in the blanks. “You look a bit like her, if I say so myself. Pretty complexion. Deep, round eyes. You’re smart like her too. Running your own pecan business at such a young age. Not many kids got that kind of money sense. Oka was the same way. Managing that store.”
I try to imagine Oka counting money, selling ham and corn and lollipops. I picture Jack as a little boy, running into the store. Tugging on his mother’s dress, climbing into her lap.
“Is she still alive?” I ask. “What about Jack’s brother?”
“Last I heard, they were still in Willow Bend.”
I bend at the waist and try to breathe between my knees. Mabel sits still next to me and waits for me to calm myself. “I thought I was alone,” I explain, unfolding myself to sit upright again. “After Mama and Jack. So many secrets. Why?”
Mabel doesn’t answer. There is no real reason, it seems.
“Jack hit Mama,” I say, feeling the need to spit it out. Tired of carrying all these secrets. “He hit her a lot. All the time. And he was never a father to me. Not really.”
Mabel shakes her head, then says, “He was a sweet little boy.” I figure she’s trying to help me find the good.
“It wasn’t Mama’s fault,” I say, wanting to defend her. “If Jack had never hit her …” I leave the statement unfinished.
Mabel nods. Stays quiet.
Camille bounces over to us. “Can we stop for ice cream?” And just like that, we are both snapped back into Camille’s perfect world.