Bone's Gift

by Angie Smibert

  “Isn’t that Mamaw?” Bone asked.

  Across from Flat Woods, a silver-haired figure in a black jacket and dungarees was stooped over by a tall patch of goldenrods. When she straightened up, Mamaw tied a string around an armful of the tall yellow flowers and stuffed them in the basket hanging from the crook of her left arm. Bone ran down the road to meet her grandmother. Ruby didn’t follow. She stood up the road, with Opal and Pearl looking on.

  “Y’all come on,” Bone called.

  Ruby glanced back toward the parsonage before saying goodbye to the other girls. She walked slowly at first, but then broke into a run. Mamaw scooped her up like she had Bone.

  Bone spied a yellow truck outside the boardinghouse.

  “He’s visiting with Miss Spencer.” Mamaw strode toward the parsonage. “I was coming to see you all—and Mattie.”

  Ruby stopped in her tracks. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Mamaw.” She peered at her house.

  The lace in the front window moved.

  “I come to make peace,” Mamaw said. “I even brought a little offering.” The basket on her arm held zucchini, yellow squash, and sweet potatoes from her garden. And something wrapped in checkered cloth smelled like bread. She tucked the long-stemmed goldenrods under her arm. “These are for my patients.”

  “What do the goldenrods do, Mamaw?” Bone asked.

  The three of them stopped outside the parsonage’s white picket fence. Mamaw handed Ruby the basket and took out the flowers. She held them in her hand like she’d held the burdock root that day in her cabin. She closed her eyes for a moment.

  “It reduces swelling. It’s good for gout and arthritis.” Mamaw opened her eyes. “And I recently saw how it could help with kidney stones.”

  Bone was thirsty for more. She wanted to know more about the Gifts, and she wanted to talk over the clues she’d gathered and the visions she’d seen with Mamaw. All of it was roiling around in her head like a whirlpool.

  “Mamaw,” Ruby whispered urgently. She flicked her eyes toward the front porch.

  Aunt Mattie was standing there, arms crossed, glaring at them. “What do you think you’re doing, Mother?”

  “I come to visit my daughter and granddaughters.” Mamaw opened the front gate. She waved Bone and Ruby through with the goldenrod still in her hand. “Brought you some of that squash you like so much.”

  “We have a garden,” Aunt Mattie answered stiffly. She eyed the plump-bottomed, bright yellow squash in the basket Ruby was holding. The squash growing in the parsonage Victory Garden out back was puny and pale in comparison.

  “Amarantha, we need to bury the hatchet, you and I.” Mamaw paused on the bottom step, looking up at her daughter. When she didn’t budge, Mamaw asked, “Can I at least come in for a cup of coffee?”

  Aunt Mattie glanced up and down the row of houses before stepping aside.

  Mamaw settled herself down at the kitchen table, laying the flowers to one side. “Put those vegetables in the sink, Ruby,” she said. “And wash them good.”

  Bone tiptoed over to the sink to help Ruby. Together they began to rinse the squash and zucchini, moving slowly and quietly so as not to disturb the potential powder keg behind them. Bone lifted a sweet potato; it still smelled of the earth up on Reed Mountain. It filled Bone with longing to be there. Or anywhere but here.

  “Have you heard from Henry yet?” Mamaw asked.

  Aunt Mattie poured her mother a cup of coffee from the pot on the stove. She didn’t pour herself one. She leaned against the kitchen counter with her arms crossed. Bone couldn’t see her aunt’s face, but she could feel the icy glare directed at Mamaw. Finally Aunt Mattie said, “He wrote when he got there. He said they were shipping out to England in the next day or so. Apparently, chaplains don’t need much training. Just pop them in a uniform and put them on a boat …” Aunt Mattie’s words caught in her throat.

  Ruby’s head snapped up, and she looked at Bone. She shook her head slightly. Evidently Aunt Mattie hadn’t told her. Bone heard a chair move and peeked behind her. Aunt Mattie sat down across from Mamaw.

  “Oh, Mattie. I’m sorry, hon.” Mamaw reached for Aunt Mattie’s hand, but she drew it away.

  Bone turned back to scrubbing the sweet potatoes. Ruby sniffed back a tear, and Bone leaned into her so their shoulders touched. Ruby leaned back.

  “I’m here to help you and the girls anyway I can,” Mamaw said softly.

  “Where have you been the last six years?” The chair scraped across the floor, and Aunt Mattie sprang to her feet.

  Bone and Ruby stood stock-still, the water running over their hands. Trapped. It was going to be like dinner with Uncle Junior, only Mamaw was probably a fair match for Aunt Mattie.

  “Girls, go do your homework,” Mamaw said.

  Bone didn’t need to be told twice. Neither did Ruby. They escaped to Bone’s room, leaving the door open so they could listen.

  “Amarantha, you’re the one who kicked me out. But that don’t matter. I shouldn’t have stayed away. I wanted to respect your wishes.”

  “Everything is still always my fault, isn’t it, Mother? Is it my fault I wasn’t blessed like you and Willow and Ash?” Aunt Mattie said the word blessed like it was anything but that. “Was it my fault I got the influenza? Was it my fault that Willow—” Aunt Mattie broke off.

  “I never said any of it was your fault, Amarantha, especially about Willow.”

  “You never want to blame what’s really at fault. You never blame the—” Aunt Mattie said the last word so quietly that Bone could only guess what it was. Gifts.

  “Honey, the girls know about the Gifts.”

  Bone and Ruby exchanged a wide-eyed look.

  “What?” Aunt Mattie roared.

  “And they need to know how to handle them … if they’re so gifted.”

  “What did you tell them?”

  “You can’t protect them from what’s inside of them, Amarantha.”

  “Me and the Lord certainly intend to do just that.” Bone heard feet stomping across the kitchen and the front door opening. “And you know Bayard agreed with me. That’s why he gave me Laurel. I want you out of my house.”

  It was quiet for a long moment, and Bone wondered if Mamaw had left. What did Aunt Mattie mean about it not being her fault? A chair pushed back from the kitchen table, and Mamaw’s boots moved slowly across the floorboards. “Amarantha, I know you feel like I never take your side. But I meant what I said about burying the hatchet. If you and the girls need anything, I’ll be here in a heartbeat.”

  The front door slammed shut.

  Bone dashed out of the study and ran after her grandmother.

  “Bone, don’t!” Ruby called quietly after her, but she didn’t follow.

  Luckily, Aunt Mattie’s bedroom door closed with another bang. Bone eased open the front door and caught up with Mamaw at the front gate.

  “What did Aunt Mattie mean?” Bone asked, clinging to the gate. “Was it her fault?” She whispered the last part.

  Mamaw shook her head. She looked weary, like she’d gone five rounds with a heavyweight champion and thrown in the towel. “No, Bone. She thinks I blame her because she lived and your mama didn’t.”

  Bone relaxed her grip on the pickets and opened the gate.

  The horn of the old yellow truck honked as Uncle Ash drew up beside them, just him and Corolla in the cab. “Hey, how’s my Forever Girl?”

  Mamaw dropped the goldenrods she was still holding and leaned a hand against the truck to steady herself. Bone scooped up the flowers.

  “You okay, Mama?” Uncle Ash bolted out of the truck, but Mamaw waved him off.

  “I’m tired. You know how talking to your sister can be.”

  Uncle Ash gave Bone a look, and she helped her grandmother into the truck.

  “Yes, indeed, I do.” He slid into the driver’s seat. “It’s like beating a rug with a broom—only you’re the rug.” He winked at Bone. “Does Mattie still make her calls on par
ishioners on Wednesdays?” he asked out of the blue.

  Bone nodded. Her aunt always checked on the parishioners that didn’t live right in Big Vein at the same time every week.

  “Hang in there, Forever Girl.” Uncle Ash threw the old truck in gear. It protested, but Ash whipped it around and headed back toward Dry Branch.

  The little yellow truck disappeared up the road in a cloud of whirling dust. Bone felt like she was clinging to a tree to keep herself afloat in the raging water, watching a ship speed away from her.

  27

  AFTER SCHOOL WEDNESDAY, Aunt Mattie took Ruby to do their calling on parishioners. They’d call on as many as the gas rationing would allow. They’d left Bone with the cleaning and laundry. She scrubbed the floors and dusted and swept as fast as she could, hoping to at least be able to go outside. The house was beginning to close in on her, and Bone felt every inch like Ashpet.

  But the empty house and the chores gave her a chance to think—and find her sweater. Bone pushed open the door to her aunt’s room. The curtains were closed tight, and the room was a dark cavern. When Bone flipped the light switch on, the view didn’t improve much. The room was sparse with only a four-poster bed, a chest of drawers, and a tiny closet. Bone carefully looked through the closet. Mattie had a handful of nice dresses. Uncle Henry didn’t even leave a suit. It was like he’d never lived here. And there was no yellow sweater.

  Bone crossed the creaking hardwood floors, pausing in the empty spot next to the bed. It would’ve been perfect for a big chair. Bone felt dizzy and sad standing there for even a second. She hurried away from it.

  On the dresser, the picture of a grim-faced Mattie and Henry in their plain wedding clothes stared at Bone. Next to Mattie stood Bone’s mother, holding the wedding bouquet and beaming. There was no yellow sweater in the picture—or in the drawers. But there was a key, and the only place Bone hadn’t searched was Aunt Mattie’s padlocked shed.

  Bone grabbed the key and made a beeline for the shed. She tried to peek through the windows as she fumbled with the lock, but the lace curtains didn’t reveal anything. Bone figured it would be full of gardening tools, potting soil, and perhaps a push mower. When she opened the door and pulled the string on the bare light bulb, Bone’s jaw hit the ground. Inside, the shed was roomy and bright—and decorated. The walls were painted a pale yellow with white trim. A large, comfy chair occupied one end, and neatly arranged and labeled shelves took up the other end. But in the middle was a long table, a workbench really, with old radios and clocks and other gadgets in various states of repair spread across its surface. A rack of hand tools—screwdrivers, wrenches, and the like—hung on the wall. Their outlines had been precisely painted around them in blue to show exactly where each one went.

  Aunt Mattie had a workshop.

  Bone ran her fingers over a radio and then a pair of pliers. She felt a tingle of happiness. Her aunt contentedly tinkered with a clock, the radio softly playing Glenn Miller in the background. And she was talking to someone—or something—off to the right. Bone glanced over and saw it. Her butter-yellow sweater was hanging neatly on a hanger to the side of the workbench.

  She pulled her sweater down and inhaled its scent. It still smelled of lavender.

  She saw Mattie and Willow as young girls playing in the creek down below the Reed tree house. Mama couldn’t have been much older than Bone. Mattie fell and cut her palm wide open on a rock. The wound gushed, and Mattie cried out. Her little sister took the bloody hand in hers. “See what I can do.” Willow held Mattie’s hand for a moment and then washed it off in the water. There wasn’t a mark to be seen.

  Her face white as a ghost, Mattie stared first at her hand and then at her sister.

  Mattie’s eyes widened, and her mouth opened in surprise. “Oh, Willow, I thought you could just see what ails people.” She wrinkled her nose, her upper lip raised in disgust. Mattie leapt up, backing away from her sister. “Never, ever tell anyone you can do this.” She held out her pristine palm. “Not even Mother. Or Ash.” Her eyes narrowed. “It’s the devil’s work,” she hissed before stalking off.

  Mama could heal.

  Mama felt small and hurt, and it wasn’t something she could heal herself.

  But she still loved her sister.

  Bone liked her aunt not one little bit.

  She pulled on her sweater. She felt bathed in happiness to have it back. And yet she was boiling inside. How could her aunt have taken this away from her? How could she have turned her back on her own sister?

  A knock on the shed door made Bone jump. It was Will. Freshly scrubbed from the change house. He must have known Aunt Mattie wasn’t home.

  He peered into the shed with an amused look on his face.

  “It’s Aunt Mattie’s.”

  Will motioned up the road toward the store.

  “Let me get my coat.” Bone didn’t need any more convincing than that. “And put this back.” She held up the key. She’d put it back—but not the sweater. It was hers.

  On the way up the road, Bone was still thinking about everything she’d seen. Will nudged her, and she shrugged. Then she asked him how the mine was going with Daddy gone. Will shrugged back.

  He was leading them up to the store. Mr. Scott was sitting on the front porch, smoking and talking to Uncle Junior and Uncle Ash. This is why Ash asked about Wednesdays. Bone felt like crying she was so happy to see all of them. She might make it through the week if she met Will and her uncles every Wednesday.

  “There’s my Forever Girl,” Ash drawled. Corolla bounded down to greet her. The other dogs were curled up at Ash’s feet. “Got you a Nehi.” He indicated the empty rocking chair between him and Junior.

  “Will, that radio you ordered for your mama come in yesterday,” Mr. Scott said, pushing himself to his feet.

  Bone sank gratefully into the empty chair between her uncles and took a long satisfying drink of her grape soda. “Which of ya’ll planned this jailbreak?” She looked at Uncle Junior.

  Uncle Junior laughed and pointed at Ash.

  “Now how would we know that Amarantha was calling on folks down toward Parrott?” Uncle Ash asked a little too innocently.

  “Well, we can’t have Mattie keeping you under a washtub, Ashpet,” Uncle Junior said. Ashpet’s stepmother hid her under a washtub every time company came to call.

  “Uncle Junior!” Bone didn’t want this particular nickname to stick—even if it did fit.

  Will wrote out quickly, The house is awful clean.

  “It was clean to begin with.” Bone sighed and took another drink of her Nehi. Ash offered her a peppermint stick. It was just what she needed.

  The sun warmed Bone’s face as she sat with Ash and Junior and Will in the crisp fresh air. She unbuttoned her coat. Her uncles talked easily about the mines, with Will contributing his thoughts here and there on his scraps of paper. They asked her about school and Ruby. Uncle Ash said he’d come over to see to a lame horse and deliver some packages for Mamaw.

  “Uh-oh,” Uncle Junior interrupted. A black Ford was stirring up the dust on its way toward them. “She can’t be done with her calls yet.”

  “Gas rationing.” Uncle Ash groaned. “Without Henry here, I bet she don’t get as many points.”

  “I’m done with my chores. Almost,” Bone added the latter quietly. She didn’t budge from her chair. She was still mad about the sweater—which she was wearing. Bone buttoned her jacket to the top.

  The Ford pulled up next to the yellow Chevy pickup in front of the store. Aunt Mattie got out of her car, straightened herself like she was heading into battle, and steamed up the steps.

  Ruby, trailing behind, waved to Ash and Junior behind her mother’s back.

  “I’m going to see if that fabric I ordered came in,” Mattie told her daughter. She didn’t acknowledge Will or her brothers, but she froze when she saw Bone sitting between them. “Laurel Grace Phillips. What are you doing here? Are you finished—”

  “Now, Amaranth
a,” Ash began.

  “Now nothing, you. I told you to stay clear.” She shook a finger at her younger brother. “I am talking to Laurel. She had chores to do.”

  “Mattie, it’s our doing,” Junior interrupted her, but she did not want to be interrupted.

  “I trusted you and left you on your own, young lady, to take care of your responsibilities. And this is how you repay me?” Aunt Mattie’s voice crackled. “I am terribly disappointed in you, Laurel. I took you in—”

  Bone was simmering inside. Ruby wouldn’t look at her.

  “Mattie, that is enough,” Uncle Junior’s voice rang out. He rose up out of that chair like a great tree and glared down at his sister.

  Usually Uncle Junior reminded Bone of that thick braided wire that pulled the ferry across the river or the mantrip up from the mine. The towline didn’t look like much from afar, but it was tough and near unbreakable and much more complicated up close. Today he seemed like one of the giant oaks that held up the Reed house.

  Uncle Ash pulled himself out of his chair and stood shoulder to shoulder with his older brother. Both of them crossed their arms and waited for their sister to say another word.

  Mattie spun on her heel and stormed back to her car. It wouldn’t start. But before the men could move a reluctant muscle to help, she whipped out of the driver’s seat, threw open the hood, jiggled a wire, and then fired up the engine. “Get in the car, Ruby,” she growled, and then they were off down the road again.

  The brothers exchanged a glance.

  “Henry did not show her that.”