Well. The excitement of Dreama and The Night for Mothers did not end with Pearl leaving with the crowd. Mama poured Tommy coffee and gave him corn bread while she explained.
“Not only did Greta come to town, but she stopped here after seeing Dreama.”
“Oh, Mama, that’s so wonderful.”
“She brought me a beautiful seed box with specimens from the prairie. I can’t wait to plant them in memory of James and the little things that were good that year, like my friendship with Greta.”
“That’s really nice. So Dreama read for Mrs. Zurchenko?”
Mama nodded. “She was pleased as she could be with the results, said she felt healed, that Dreama said the children were warm and safe. And then Dreama just got up and blew away—leaving a glove behind and her crystals, and it was mayhem after that, apparently. Katherine and the girls all got home safe. She was here with Aleksey as a matter of fact. I thought the two of them went out back to get you, but they were just talking, apparently.”
Tommy puffed his cheeks, then blew out the air, thinking of Pearl and her retelling of what happened with Dreama and the last family she read for. She had said the son was big, but couldn’t see him with the pillar and the shadowy stage lighting. “Well, I suppose the Zurchenkos got their money’s worth, right? Of all of those who went.”
Mama shook her head, hands on hips. “Suppose so. I wouldn’t have imagined someone as practical as Greta could be moved by such a thing. Even Katherine and her angels . . . I just don’t know. Town’s even more riled up since Dreama ran from the hall, a frenzy of both anger and also admiration. Quite a stew of interest, I’d say.”
“Lots of money, I suppose.”
“Oh.” Mama shook her finger. “Greta brought one of our trunks that we left behind when we abandoned the dugout. Drag it back to the shed when you have a chance. I can’t bear to go through it. Not yet, even after all these years.”
“I will.”
“And today’s the day I need you to take Yale to that picnic and fair the women’s club is hosting.”
He adjusted his shirt tail. “Sounds good. I think Yale’s ready for this kind of thing. I remember one of the events we went to when I was little—an elephant. Remember they had one to ride?”
“I sure do. Took us months to arrange for that.”
Silence hung between them. Tommy knew they were both thinking, So much has changed since then.
**
When Pearl came home from the post office, she volunteered to take Yale to the party. “You can keep looking for a job,” she said as she washed her face at the bowl.
“No. I want to go. I want to see Yale’s face when she meets exotic animals and new people—children her age. And I promised Mama I would.”
As they reached the park, Tommy explained that the gathering was sponsored by the women’s club and the Society for Social Action and given for children who had everything in life and those who had nothing. Mrs. Hillis believed that joining children from all types of families would be what changed the least of society, what would allow them to transform and participate in the community in ways that were productive, not criminal or desperate.
Mama was busy that day organizing news articles for Mrs. Hillis. Tommy was proud of Mama, that she was writing again and that doing so lit her up, reminding him of her before they first left Des Moines.
They reached the tree-covered picnic grove. There were pony rides, bobbing for apples, foot races, tiny cakes frosted pink and white, candies, oranges, and paper for children to paint and draw on.
It was as though every decadent experience from his former childhood had been laid out before him. When it was Yale’s turn to ride, he walked alongside the pony, holding her hand, the jingling bells on her wrist, providing harmony for every step the animal took.
Tommy swelled with love and satisfaction that his sister was experiencing a sliver of what he had for the first ten years of his life. It made him think of how she’d been born, in that dugout on the prairie, early, just a sack of stick-bones with loose, see-through skin, her veins and arteries mapping her little arms and legs. And now here she was riding a pony. Impossible to imagine, he would have said at the time she was born. She smiled as she bobbed along with every step the pony took, but she grasped Tommy’s hand, clamping on with an iron grip.
Tommy loved seeing her happy, engaged with the world, wearing her best blue-checked dress, redone from a larger, worn frock. It was as though he’d been taken back in time. He was happier than he could have imagined to be charged with accompanying Yale to such an affair. Adding to his delight was Pearl’s reaction. Fifteen years old, she’d never experienced such decadence. Her dress was dingy, as always, but she’d scrubbed her cheeks clean and wiped strawberries along her lips to redden them, a smattering of freckles trailing across her nose.
When Yale was done with the pony, Tommy and Pearl walked her to the trees, where children were climbing. Pearl grabbed Tommy’s hand. “Thank you, Tommy. For bringing me.”
“You’re welcome. You look pretty with your scrubbed cheeks.”
She smiled at him from under the brim of her hat.
He squeezed her hand wanting to say more about how much he liked her.
Yale pointed to one of the smaller trees. “Sit.”
Tommy and Pearl exchanged a glance and took her closer. He held her up, unsure what she meant. She grasped for the tree, fingers brushing low-hanging leaves.
“Sit on the branch?” Tommy asked.
She nodded and kicked her legs, muddy shoes leaving marks on Tommy’s chest. “All this icy rain. Wish we’d get a blizzard to freeze all the mud.” Tommy set Yale on the branch above him, keeping a hand on her. There was a second branch just above it, running parallel to Yale’s chest. She grabbed on, leaning into it for support and swung her feet, mud flying. Tommy put his hand at Yale’s back. “Wheee,” she said as a soft breeze lifted her hair, her hand moving just enough to make the tinkling bells lift on the wind. Pearl stood at the other side, reaching up to keep a hand on Yale’s back, too.
That moment of bliss came to a sharp end when someone tapped Tommy on the shoulder. He turned and faced Reverend Shaw. The man leaned in close to Tommy’s ear.
“You’ve been very, very bad, Master Arthur.”
Tommy glanced over his shoulder. Pearl was confused, staring at him. Tommy shook his head and waved her off. “Stay with Yale.”
Tommy was stunned that the minister’s grip was so strong. “You’ve been skimming extra from the prayer earnings, and that money belongs to the poor and wretched souls I serve at the church.”
“Hardly.” Tommy’s voice rose. He lowered the volume down to a strained whisper, embarrassed, but noticing that most people were engrossed with their party activity. “Any prayer business I had, dried up with the arrival of Dreama.”
Tommy remembered Reverend Shaw being at Dreama’s reading when he was tasked with taking notes, that the reverend had his hand down Helen’s bodice. He was frightened by what Shaw had against him and others he cared about, but he felt as though offense might at least give him some distance from the man. “You know Dreama, Miss Violet, her employees, their assets. You’ve met all of them. Certainly you haven’t forgotten Dreama took the entire prayer business right out from under us. Certainly you haven’t forgotten your time with Helen.”
Tommy glanced back at Yale and Pearl. He could tell Pearl was trying to coax Yale from the tree. She had to get on her toes to reach Yale to pull her down. Tommy shook his head. “Stay there,” he shouted. “It’s fine.”
Jingle, jingle. The sound of bells carried to his ears.
“That’s right,” Reverend Shaw said. “But I’m not sure you were honest when you told me the prayers dried up. I heard you get special requests for your prayers. They don’t want mine. They want the extras. The second set of prayers they get when you visit. You’re providing extras that I’m not compensated for.”
“If you must know, I’ve dropped a few free prayers to former customers, yes. But no one paid me. I didn’t take a thing from you.”
“Free prayers for no reason?”
Tommy stuffed his hands into his pockets. “Maybe I earned a little satisfaction from it. Contentment that I helped someone. You know . . .” Tommy pondered what he was about to say, that he suddenly saw himself in a different light. “Like a minister should. Self-sacrificing. Do you feel that way when you pray with someone, for someone?”
Reverend Shaw’s face screwed up, reddening. “Selfish, like all the boys I help. Always taking. Thieves, all.”
Tommy didn’t want to argue about other boys or state the obvious reason Reverend Shaw chose thieving boys to “help,” not right then. Tommy may have known the truth about Reverend Shaw, but he understood his word wouldn’t stand up against the minister’s in public. Yet, he felt the power shift between the two.
Jingle, jingle. For his sister, it was time for Tommy to be a man.
“So I’ll ask again,” Tommy said. “You haven’t noticed that Dreama’s the one stealing our prayer opportunities? Whatever extra I do is nothing compared to what she’s siphoned off. None of the addresses you give me are good. Everyone’s waiting to sit with Dreama.”
“I want what’s owed me.”
“I don’t have anything to give you. Unless you want the remnants of my free prayers. I imagine at some point in time you believed in prayer for real? You didn’t start off being a lying fraud, did you?”
“You think you can make accusations like this, that you—”
“Yes. I do.”
“You’re no different than me,” Reverend Shaw said.
Tommy felt himself straighten against a man he was afraid of. Tommy wouldn’t push against him publicly, but he wouldn’t be pushed in private any longer.
Reverend Shaw poked Tommy’s chest, stepping closer. “You owe fourteen dollars at least to Colt Churchill. And you owe what you stole from me. Slinging mud at your benefactors isn’t going to persuade me to help you.”
Tommy grabbed the reverend’s arm, folding it back against his chest. “Don’t wait for me to ask for help. I’ve made plenty of mistakes. I’m not . . . Well, I’m far beyond not perfect; I’m troubled and lost and all the things you say about me and the boys you help.”
Dorozhka. Mr. Zurchenko’s voice came to Tommy.
“But I’m going to change. I am. But for now, I’m the poor you claim to help.”
“And yet you claim not to need me.” The reverend wrenched away and surveyed the party; Tommy followed his gaze to Yale and Pearl.
Yale was getting antsy, kicking her feet hard, too hard. Pearl rose onto her toes, reaching up for Yale. Tommy jogged toward the tree.
“Don’t push me, Arthur.” The reverend’s voice made Tommy stop and turn back to him. A stiff wind blew the reverend’s hat off. He shoved it back on, stalking after Tommy. “Town’s ripe for a sacrificial lamb, someone for the mob to claim they caught. You’d be the perfect scapegoat to get things going—to show the judge isn’t letting people slide through the system without consequences. Gambling, taking advantage of grieving widows, stealing, too? All I have to do is tell people how hard I’ve been working to wrench you back on the righteous path, that you’re resisting despite my generous overtures.”
Tommy’s thoughts tied into useless knots. He whirled back. “I’ll spill all your dirty deeds. Everyone knows you sent me to sell prayers. I did nothing wrong.”
“They won’t believe you, Tommy. You must be joking. Your name’s all over the saloon. You’ve been in jail, using phony names . . . There’s even a question of stolen items at each and every home you’ve visited, including the judge’s the day you cut wood. Or maybe your mother lifted the items. She was there that day, wasn’t she? Maybe it’s she who should do a turn in the clink.”
Jingle, jingle.
Tommy clenched his fists at his side. He wanted to pummel the reverend but knew that was a bad choice for several reasons. Tommy had surely done plenty that would be punishable under the law, even if for good reason. But he wasn’t going to let this phony do-gooder rule him any longer. A juggler caught Tommy’s eye, and he knew Yale would love to watch that act. “A juggler, Reverend. I’m sure you understand my sister would love to see him.”
“You’re bold, Tommy. But naïve. It’s like you don’t even see beyond your own little nose.”
Tommy backed away from the reverend and was just about to turn and run toward the tree where Yale was sitting when he heard a scream.
Pearl’s and then Yale’s.