“Don’t touch Papa’s stuff,” Ruby said. “You can put your things in the closet. Mama cleared it out for you.”
In the tiny closet hung several dresses. They all looked very familiar.
“Mama says you’re to wear my old ones.” Ruby fixed her hair in the shaving mirror hanging over the closet door. “She bought me all new ones.”
“Let’s get you unpacked, Laurel,” she heard her aunt say from the door.
“I can do that,” Bone protested, but Mattie had already swooped in and Ruby was fading away, mumbling something about homework. Miss Johnson had told them not to worry about school today.
Aunt Mattie tsked as she held up the dresses Mrs. Price had made for Bone. “You don’t need these anymore. Ruby, bring me that box for the charity clothes drive.”
Bone objected again, but her aunt plowed straight ahead. “I told Bay I’d treat you like my own, and I wouldn’t let Ruby be seen in those rags.” She grabbed the feed sack dresses and about everything else in the suitcase and chucked it in the box Ruby was now holding.
“Not that one.” Bone snatched the butter-yellow sweater from the box. “It was Mama’s.” Bone held it close to her, the lavender and its warmth making her feel less panicky.
Aunt Mattie’s eyes narrowed for the briefest of moments. “Yes, I remember that sweater.” She turned her attention abruptly to the National Geographics in the bottom of her suitcase. “Laurel, what are you doing with these?”
“Miss Johnson gives them to me.”
“Well, I’ll have to have a word with Miss Johnson.” Mattie leafed through one. She stopped on a picture of a woman in native dress. “These are not suitable reading material for a young lady.” As she picked up the last of Bone’s belongings and put them in the charity box, something small and hard fell to the floor.
Ruby gasped. It was her arrowhead. Bone had taken it home and stuffed it in her sock drawer, meaning to give it back to Ruby someday. This morning, though, she’d dumped the contents of her drawers into the suitcase without much thought.
“Isn’t that yours, Ruby?” Aunt Mattie looked at Bone accusingly. “Didn’t you say you’d lost it?”
Ruby had forgotten to tell her mother she’d lost it upside Clay Whitaker’s head. Bone smothered a grin.
“Yes, ma’am. I lost it on the playground,” Ruby said carefully. “And Bone found it and was bringing it to me.”
Actually, Jake had found it.
“Well, pick it up and give it back to Ruby,” her aunt said.
The humor of the situation evaporated at the thought of touching the thing again, especially in front of Aunt Mattie.
Ruby made a move to get it, but her mother stopped her. “Laurel needs to learn to pick up things around here. Cleanliness is next to godliness, I always say.” She looked at Bone expectantly. Ruby looked petrified. “Well, we don’t have all day,” Mattie said sharply.
Bone took her mother’s yellow sweater in hand and picked up the arrowhead with it. She offered it to Ruby without touching it. Ruby mouthed a thank-you. Aunt Mattie peered at Bone.
“It’s sharp.” Bone handed it to Ruby. “Didn’t want to cut myself,” she added—and immediately regretted it. She hadn’t meant to remind Ruby of the memory she’d seen, the one of Ruby cutting herself with the arrowhead.
Ruby snatched the rock away from her and threw it into the charity box full of Bone’s things from her past life. All Bone had left was her mother’s yellow sweater and what she had on. An old flannel shirt, corduroy trousers, and boots.
“Those will do to pull weeds in,” her aunt said. “Don’t get too comfortable in here,” she added. “We’ve got a lot of chores to do before Henry gets home.” She softened a bit. “It’ll keep your mind off your daddy.”
The first chore was weeding, and Ruby made herself scarce. Aunt Mattie had put in a respectable-looking victory garden in the tiny backyard of the parsonage. She still had a few tomato plants neatly tied to their stakes with strips of flour sacks. The tomatoes looked punier than Mamaw’s, or Mrs. Price’s for that matter. But the pole beans were growing like gangbusters. Aunt Mattie squatted down to look at them.
Bone’s eyes strayed to the back of the garden. There sat what looked like a large white playhouse with a window and lace curtains. The door was padlocked.
“Stay out of my shed,” Aunt Mattie said, following Bone’s gaze. She thrust a bowl into Bone’s hands. “We need a mess of beans for dinner.” She stooped to pick a handful and dropped them into her apron.
Bone sank to her knees in the dirt and plucked ripe beans from the vine. The smell of the soil and the lingering scents of the lavender from her sweater made her think of playing in Mamaw’s garden with her mother. Bone closed her eyes, and instead of seeing herself, she saw two young girls working and laughing in the garden together. The girls were young Willow and Mattie. When Bone opened her eyes, the older Mattie was staring at her.
“Something wrong with you, child?” Aunt Mattie asked.
“Just thinking about Mama.”
Mattie’s eyes glistened. “Me, too,” she whispered, as she dropped her apronful of pole beans into the bowl.
Bone could see her mama again in her aunt’s gray-green eyes. “Why did you and her fall out?” Bone asked.
Mattie stiffened. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She brushed the dirt from her hands and stood up. “We need some cucumbers, too,” she called over her shoulder as she headed toward the house.
Next, the three of them scrubbed the Alberts’ already immaculate house. While Bone did the laundry on the back porch, Aunt Mattie and Ruby fried chicken and mashed potatoes and stringed green beans, all while flipping through movie magazines and talking about such-and-such star’s hairdo or figure. The oddest pang of jealousy stabbed at Bone as she watched.
Running wet clothes through the wringer of the washing machine one by one did not take Bone’s mind off of much. If anything, it gave her more time to think her thoughts. Where would Daddy be sent? Would it be Africa? Would living with Aunt Mattie be as bad as she thought? Maybe she’d made too much of her in her head. Ruby eyeballed the ingredients as she mixed the dough for bread. She didn’t measure a thing, and Aunt Mattie took it all in stride.
The wringer gave out on the washer once, and Aunt Mattie sailed right back to the porch, laid a hand on the offending machinery, tightened a few screws, proclaimed it good to go, and returned to the kitchen in time to flip the chicken.
Uncle Henry took his sweet time getting home, and when he did, it was past supper. Aunt Mattie had held it warming in the oven for him. He had flowers—and smelled of beer. “Now Mattie, I had to buy the man a drink before he left to serve his country.”
Bone’s father wasn’t a big drinker.
Aunt Mattie bit her tongue and put the flowers in the sink. “Supper’s ready,” she said.
Uncle Henry said grace. At the amen, he hiccuped. Aunt Mattie glowered at him throughout dinner, and Ruby studied her plate as she pushed around her greasy chicken leg.
Aunt Mattie’s chicken was not as good as Mrs. Price’s, but Ruby’s bread was perfect.
“Mattie, Ruby, I’ve got something to tell you,” Uncle Henry broke the uncomfortable silence.
Bone sure didn’t like conversations that began this way. Ruby and Mattie looked scared.
He set aside his fork and pulled something out of his jacket pocket. “I got my notice, too.” He handed the paper to Aunt Mattie. It looked different than the one Bone’s father had gotten. Uncle Henry’s was on nice white stationery.
“But Papa, you’re a preacher. They can’t expect you to fight, can they?”
Bone never thought a minister might get drafted.
“‘Army Chaplain Corps,’” Aunt Mattie read from the paper. “‘We’re pleased to offer you a commission of second lieutenant and request that you report to Chaplain School at Harvard University on September 28, 1942’ …” In spite of herself, Aunt Mattie seemed impressed.
“But that’s so soon,” Ruby exclaimed.
Bone counted the days out in her head. Ruby was right, and it seemed awful quick to have to report. Her father had had nearly two weeks’ notice.
“Henry, you must have got this last week.” Aunt Mattie pointed to the date on the letter.
He nodded. “I didn’t want to worry Bayard.”
“Bayard? You didn’t want to worry Bayard?” Mattie glared at Bone—and then Uncle Henry. “We will talk about this later.”
Ruby was wide-eyed.
Bone didn’t want to be in his shoes later. She tried to interest herself in her mushy green beans. But Bone stole a look at her uncle. Maybe if Uncle Henry had told her father he’d got called up, too, she’d be sitting at Mamaw’s table right now.
Uncle Henry explained he’d be ministering to the wounded most likely over in England. He’d be giving comfort, performing services, and the like.
“What about church here?” Ruby asked, on the verge of tears.
She was trying to find reasons for him to stay, like Bone had done with her father.
“The deacons and elders can do everything I can. Better even. I want to do my part.” He pushed a dry piece of chicken under his mashed potatoes.
Aunt Mattie didn’t look convinced, and he hadn’t heard the last of it. “At least you’re going to be an officer. And at Harvard.”
Bone felt sorry for Ruby—and Aunt Mattie. But it didn’t seem quite fair. Uncle Henry would be in some nice safe hospital in a great big city like London. On the other hand, Daddy would be tromping around in some hot desert in Africa with Nazis shooting at him.
Later that night, Bone lay in the narrow little cot by the window, trying to read one of the detective novels she’d found stuffed under the cot. Bone couldn’t help hearing her aunt and uncle’s heated whispers.
“What do you mean you signed up?”
“I want to do my part. I want to go where I’m needed.”
“What about us? Don’t we need you?”
“Amarantha, you’ve never needed me.”
A rap on the door followed, and it opened a crack. “Can I come in?” Ruby asked in a small voice.
Bone was so surprised she forgot to answer. Ruby took this as a yes. Even in the dark of the hallway, Bone could tell she’d been crying. Bone made room for her cousin on the cot.
“Tell me a story.” Ruby crawled under the quilt next to Bone.
Bone knew exactly which one to tell her, one she had a newfound appreciation of. “There once was a girl called Ashpet.” Bone waited for Ruby to object. She only pulled the quilt more tightly around herself. “She was taken in by a cruel stepmother and two ugly stepsisters who made her do all the chores.”
Ruby giggled under the covers. She fell asleep before Bone got to the part about the glass slipper and the king’s son.
22
THE MORNING AFTER her father left, Bone pulled her butter-yellow sweater over one of Ruby’s old dresses; it had tiny green stripes and a wide white collar. It had been ugly on Ruby, too. Bone was tying her school shoes when Ruby slipped back into the study. She had on a new navy dress that made her look like a sailor. “Ready?” she whispered. “Papa’s still asleep, and Mother is getting dressed.”
Bone nodded. Ruby wanted to sneak off to school early so she wouldn’t have to face her father yet. Bone knew how she felt. She’d been scared and mad at her father, too. Still was.
She and Ruby quietly gathered their books and lunches—and a couple of apples—and tiptoed out the door.
As they ambled up the gravel road, no one else in sight, Ruby finally spoke. “Where do you think they’ll send our fathers?”
“Daddy’s old unit is in Africa, but he thinks they’re moving on to Italy.” Bone kicked a rock up the road.
“That doesn’t sound as bad as Guadalcanal or the Philippines.” Ruby gave the same stone a kick, too. It went skittering off into Mrs. Webb’s azaleas.
“Uncle Henry will be fine. He’ll be in a hospital or somewhere far away from the fighting.” Unlike Daddy.
They got to school and sat out on one of the picnic tables. Ruby handed Bone an apple.
She took a deep breath and asked, “Why did you give me that note?”
“What?” Ruby looked puzzled for a second.
Bone stared at her. “How could you forget a note that said THE GIFT KILLED YOUR MOTHER?” Bone whispered the last part even though no one else was around.
“Oh, that.” Ruby stared at her hands. “I overheard Mother arguing with someone on the phone that morning. I couldn’t help but hear it. She was yelling all about how it killed Aunt Willow. And about how it was the devil’s work. And she’d take me down to the river and baptize me all over again if she saw the first sign of a Gift in me.”
Bone bit into her Red Delicious. Ruby’s answer had left so many questions, and Bone wasn’t sure where to start.
“But why did you tell me?” Bone finally asked.
Ruby stared at her hands again. “I just wanted to scare you a little,” she said in a small voice.
“But why?” Bone stopped chewing.
“I could see you had a Gift that day we found the arrowhead.” Ruby pulled it out of her pocket.
“How did you know?” Bone bit into her apple again. Why did Ruby rescue that stupid arrowhead from the charity box?
“Mamaw tested me on my birthday. Don’t tell Mother! Uncle Junior told her we were going to Radford to get some ice cream. We did that after we saw Mamaw.”
Mamaw had asked her some questions and then had Ruby touch some plants, an object, one of the cats, and Mamaw to see if she felt anything. “Mamaw said those were the most common Gifts in the Reed family, but sometimes the Gifts skip people. Like Mother. Maybe me.”
“You’re lucky.” Bone rubbed her arm. She’d give almost anything to not have this Gift. Almost. She could still see Tiny Sherman’s shattered arm, but she could also still feel Papaw’s joy in running out on the field and smell the lavender that trailed after Mama’s love. She didn’t know what to feel about it all.
“I don’t know about that,” Ruby muttered. She tossed her apple core out past the johnny house.
“But how can one of those Gifts kill a person?” Bone whispered. She could see Miss Johnson and Miss Austin walking up the road toward the schoolhouse.
“I don’t know, Bone,” Ruby said, exasperated. “I’ve got other things on my mind.” She gathered up her books and went inside.
Bone bit into the last of her apple.
“Glad to see you two are finally getting along,” Miss Johnson told Bone.
Bone hoped that was true. But she couldn’t help wondering if it suited Ruby to be friends now that her father was leaving, too. She tossed her apple core in the trash and followed the teachers into school.
After school, Bone didn’t wait for Ruby. She ran up to the store where she found the faded yellow pickup truck waiting for her. Even though Daddy was gone, she still wanted to know—no, she needed to know—what had happened to Mama. Bone wanted to visit Queenie, but Uncle Ash said he didn’t care to—and that was that. So they collected several stories from an older lady who lived along the river road. She’d been one of her mother’s patients but didn’t have anything new to add to what Bone already knew. Maybe Uncle Ash was right. Maybe this wasn’t the best way. Maybe she should use her Gift on the sweater. Bone shook herself. No, she couldn’t, not yet. What if the story was as awful as Tiny Sherman’s arm? Or the deer? Bone did not want to feel Mama die.
Uncle Ash and Miss Spencer let her off outside the parsonage gate.
It was 5:30 p.m. The lace moved in the front window.
“Where have you been, young lady?” Aunt Mattie greeted her with the question—and a wooden spoon—as soon as Bone opened the front door.
Uncle Henry peeked over the top of his paper and then snapped it back into place. The sound of chopping echoed in the kitchen.
Her aunt waved the spoon in Bone’s face.
“Who gave you permission to do that? I certainly did not.” Aunt Mattie’s hands were on her hips now.
“Daddy did.” Bone felt the smack of the wooden spoon on her backside.
“Don’t answer back, young lady.”
“Mattie!” Uncle Henry folded his paper. “Bay did say she could go with Miss Spencer.”
Aunt Mattie shot him a look that shut him right up. Then she turned that look on Bone. She wished she had a newspaper to hide behind, too.
“You are to come straight home after school.”
Bone didn’t say anything. She figured she could take a paddling if it meant going out with Uncle Ash and Miss Spencer.
Aunt Mattie’s eyes narrowed. “And to make sure you do, I’ll keep this ugly thing.” She pointed to Bone’s butter-yellow sweater. “Take it off.”
“It was Mama’s.” Bone wrapped her arms around herself.
“You can earn it back.”
Bone wasn’t going to budge.
Aunt Mattie pulled an envelope out of her apron pocket. “From your father.”
Bone reached for it, but Mattie held it above her head. “The sweater.”
Bone reluctantly peeled it off and handed it to Mattie.
“Now go help Ruby with dinner.”
Bone ripped open the envelope. Inside was a scrap of paper wrapped around a fifty-cent piece. For a better movie was all Daddy wrote. It was hardly a fair trade.
Bone didn’t see where Aunt Mattie stashed the sweater.
She had a feeling she’d never earn it back.
23
BONE WASN’T SURE he’d come, not to Mattie’s house, but Will was a creature of habit. The knock on the back door came right as she was putting away the last dish.
Bone scrambled to open the door before Aunt Mattie heard.
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