6

“LISBETH, did you hear the fire chief talking about Whet Whetstone being hovered over something when they found him?” I asked, sticking my photo of Ida Bell back where it belonged. Me and Lisbeth came upstairs a while ago to sleep a few winks before Ida Bell got here, but that was useless. We couldn’t help but review each and every detail of the night the same way a mother studies every speck of her newly born baby.

Lisbeth came out from under her pillow. “Yeah, I sure did. I bet there was a photo album up under him, don’t you think?” she said.

“I reckon so, or a journal, and he wrote in it before he … you know.”

“Died?”

“Right.” I didn’t like that word. I never liked change at all, and somebody dying changes a whole heap of things.

“I think I’ll sneak over there and poke around soon as they pull down the police tape,” Lisbeth said. Mr. Whetstone’s property was outlined by stretched out yellow tape that said “POLICE LINE DO NOT CROSS” in black over and over. “Momma said it’ll come down today since they already know arson’s not a factor.”

“How do they know that?” I asked.

“Didn’t you hear? The fire chief found a ‘hot spot’ where Mr. Whetstone left a candle burning all night long. That’s what started this whole mess. He said it happens all the time, that it’s a silent disaster needing way more attention than it gets. You know, Mr. Whetstone liked having himself a little candlelit prayer time each and every night.”

Candles calmed my nerves. Ida Bell told me once that when I missed her at night, to light up a candle and I’d feel better. It worked, too. I guess Whet Whetstone didn’t set his candle in a wide-mouth Mason jar like Ida Bell gave me. I decided to ask her for a different idea on giving me peace at night. I never wanted to see another burning candle, long as I lived.

I sat up in bed and leaned in toward Lisbeth. “I don’t really think you need to go meddling around over there, Lisbeth. Daddy said Mr. Whetstone’s house heated up to over a thousand degrees just minutes after the fire started. It’s bound to still be hot. You could get burned.”

Lisbeth disappeared back under her pillow. My fraidycat side got on her nerves. “I plan on being careful. It’s interesting seeing what things look like all burned up.” She had more nerve than Will, Meri, and me put together. I knew for a fact that nothing on God’s green earth could make me set foot over there. Ever. She peeked out. “Besides, don’t you want to find out more about the book Mr. Whetstone threw himself over?”

“Well, sure I do. I’m fixing to step downstairs and ask Momma if she knows. She hasn’t left for work yet. Be right back.” Momma had a way of finding out things nobody else could. I made it halfway down the stairs when her voice, barking at Daddy, reached me and stopped me dead.

Momma’s wits were standing on their very end. “William, now, you know we can’t keep on going like this. Daisy Street just isn’t what it used to be. You got the Wadsworths next door. I like him fine, but she’s nosier than a bloodhound and their boy must be trying to win some kind of Halloween contest with his looks and all. You got the Meadowbrook neighborhood through the woods with all sorts of meanness going on. And now this? I do not want to live next to the eyesore of a burned down house, especially one where all folks are gonna think of is a person dying. Truth is, William, I don’t want to live in Monroe County anymore. I need something entirely different.”

I held my breath for fear its sound would drown out Momma’s words. While she talked about moving, my head stuffed up with cotton. The baluster I steadied myself on gave way, coming unattached from the staircase handrail. I stuck it back where it belonged. No matter how fancy a place is, if a person looked hard enough, the coming-apart pieces sure enough showed up.

“I know, Sadie, I know. We could look into buying a piece of land on the outskirts of the county and building a new house. Get a little further away from town and all the people you deal with at work,” Daddy said, and I let out my breath. Please, Momma, please listen to him. Momma and Daddy had thought about moving to a new neighborhood for a while now, which I could handle. I knew I’d keep in touch with Harper, but I couldn’t bear the thought of moving so far away that Ida Bell and me wouldn’t see each other every day. Just thinking of it felt like getting buried alive.

Momma started in again. “I’d really like to just begin again someplace new. Get out of Monroe County, maybe earn my social work Master’s and work in a hospital in a bigger town. I want to stop going into folk’s homes where I see lives torn up like Will’s blue jeans.”

My eyes dried up on account I hadn’t blinked in a while. Someplace new…begin again. Fear crept up my back and sat down on my shoulders. All I wanted in the whole wide world was for Ida Bell to live in shouting distance. Momma and Daddy stopped talking when Ida Bell creaked open the screen door.

“Miz Callaway? What in the world done happened next door?” Ida Bell asked. Before Momma could answer, Ida Bell added, “Now, where Gracie-girl at?”

That gave me a smile, her asking about me right off like that.

“She’s upstairs resting a little bit. We’ve been up since three o’clock in the morning, Ida Bell. Whet’s house caught fire in the night, and we were sure ours was next with the wind blowing flames like you would not believe. If the good Lord wasn’t with us …” Momma said through a tissue.

I couldn’t sit there any longer. “Ida Bell!” I said, skipping as many steps as possible to get to her. I jumped into her arms like I was five years old again, and then out of nowhere my face was full-up with tears. Ida Bell was warm and her love poured into me and kept me standing. My tears poured onto her, and she stood there strong enough for me, her, and the mess I was making.

“Well, now, Gracie-girl, I suppose you right tired. Let me get a good look at you,” she said, brushing my hair out of my face with one hand and not letting go of me with the other. “Sounds like some kind of morning you done had!” Ida Bell always managed a smile, and I was never far behind.

I caught my breath and stared into her deep eyes, brown and flowy and soft like the waters of the Alabama River. “Can we walk down to the berry patch, Ida Bell?” I said. After holding on to all that the fear during the fire, after knowing Mr. Whetstone was gone, and after letting out my cries on Ida Bell, I was all washed out. My arms didn’t want to lift, and my legs didn’t want to carry me anywhere except someplace worry-free.

“Gracie-girl, you reading my mind! That do sound mighty fine. And when we get back, we gone wash up our berries and smother ‘em in cream. Maybe since you done had a troublesome morning, we’ll sprinkle ourselves a little sugar on the top, too,” she said with a spark.

The heaviness of all I’d been through rose up off me a little. Having Ida Bell here was like coming up for air after being under water too long.

Momma picked up her purse and Daddy his briefcase. Momma went on out the back to the garage, but Daddy stepped out to the front foyer and stared over toward next door. He looked back at me, sadness wrapped up in his eyes, and quoted,

Ev’n from the tomb the voice of nature cries

and I went on to finish,

Ev’n in our ashes live their wonted fires

The heavy words pressed down on my middle like someone else’s hands resting on my hips. He and Momma went on their way to work while Ida Bell and me went ours. It was sure enough strange how a day carried on as usual in spite of a whole house and a whole person being gone.