This I Know

by Eldonna Edwards

  “Let’s go,” he says.

  I’m out of the car and in the store before he’s even got his door open. My job is to cross things off the list as Daddy puts them in the cart. When our basket is nearly full, Daddy stops in the middle of the aisle and thumbs through his stack of coupons looking for ten cents off Charmin. When he finds it, he pulls three packages off the shelf and dumps them in the cart. He doesn’t squeeze them even a little bit. I glance over the list and draw a line through TP. Daddy never spells it out. Maybe he worries about dropping the list and somebody finding out Pastor Carter wipes his behind just like everybody else. Which is kind of funny since he spends more time in the bathroom than anyone else I know.

  At the checkout I help load the groceries onto the moving black belt. Daddy looks over our haul and pulls out matching coupons one by one. He hands them to me to give to Mrs. Norberg. When the cart is empty he looks up from his fistful of coupons and frowns.

  “Grace, do you have the five-loaves-for-a-dollar bread coupon?”

  I shake my head. “It’s in your . . .” I swallow and start over. “I think I saw you put it in your wallet after you cut it out of the paper.”

  Daddy pulls the black wallet out of his pants pocket. Coupons and little pieces of paper bulge from every compartment. Mrs. Norberg winks at me and I roll my eyes. I like Mrs. Norberg. She and her husband have owned the store for over thirty years. Whenever I come along with Daddy, I guess how much he’ll save with coupons and she gives me a sucker if I’m close. Close pretty much means anything because she gives me a sucker every time, even when I’m way off.

  It’s not something I can use the Knowing on. Another rule that comes with the gift is I can’t use it to make a profit. It’s only for helping people and to learn things that’ll make me a better person. I once asked Isaac if I could go to the horse races and know what horse would win so Mama and Daddy could have more money to raise us kids. He told me it doesn’t work that way.

  What do you think would happen if your mama and daddy got rich, Grace? he’d asked.

  Isaac often answers my questions with one of his own.

  “Our mama and daddy,” I corrected him. “We’d probably move into a fancy house and Daddy could buy nicer suits to preach in and Mama could get her hair done at the beauty shop instead of having to do it herself. Us kids would all have new bikes and no hand-me-downs and—”

  And that’s what would make all of you happy?

  Another question. I nearly chewed through my lip trying to come up with the right answer.

  “No, what would make us happy is for Mama to be like her old self. That would please Daddy and we’d be a happy family like before you died.”

  There are lots of unhappy rich people, Grace.

  I thought about Mr. and Mrs. Cole, who own the car lot and live in the fanciest house in town, way up on the hill overlooking the lake and all the other houses. I don’t believe I’ve ever seen either of them smile. Mrs. Cole always looks like she smells something nasty with her lips all pinched and nostrils flared. Mr. Cole walks with his head down and his shoulders bent, as if he has one of those shiny new cars resting on top of him. Daddy doesn’t make much money for his preaching, but at least he loves his job.

  “I don’t think I want to be rich,” I’d finally said.

  A tiny photograph slips out of Daddy’s wallet and lands on the sticky carousel as he searches for another coupon. When it reaches the end I grab it before it gets swallowed up under the lip of the counter. The picture is of a sleeping baby lying in what looks like a dresser drawer lined with blue satin, surrounded by flowers in glass vases. He’s wearing a white gown with a matching bonnet. A heart-shaped birthmark dots the side of his neck. I run my fingers over the picture and as I do, my heart swells up into my throat. I slowly turn the photograph over and read the inscription.

  My beloved son, in whom I am well pleased.

  Isaac Henry Carter

  March 13, 1958

  “Daddy, you . . .”

  I glance up at him. He’s still searching through his pockets. I know I shouldn’t, but I can’t help myself. I bend over and tuck my brother’s picture into my sock. When I stand back up Mrs. Norberg is looking at me and I know she saw what I did. She looks at Daddy and I brace for her to rat on me. All she says is, “There it is, Reverend,” and pulls the coupon clipping from his breast pocket. When she turns to ring up the coupons I feel my breath come back into my chest.

  “What do you think, Grace?”

  My face flushes hot. What I think is that I stole Daddy’s picture of Isaac and it’s burning a hole in my ankle.

  “How much did we save today?” Mrs. Norberg asks.

  “Oh.” Without thinking, I blurt out, “Three dollars and ten cents.”

  Mrs. Norberg cranks the lever on the side of the cash register to total the coupons. All three of us watch as the numbers spin and then $3.10 slides into the windows.

  “Bull’s-eye!” she says, and hands me two suckers.

  Daddy gives me that look of his, but he doesn’t say anything.

  * * *

  As soon as the groceries are put away I run upstairs and carefully unroll my sock. I take a flashlight into the closet with me.

  “Is this really you, Isaac?”

  It’s what I looked like in human form.

  “You don’t have red hair like me.”

  We weren’t identical twins, Grace.

  “I know. Joy explained it to me. We came from two eggs, not one.”

  That’s right. We were fraternal twins.

  “Are,” I correct him. I get the feeling he’s about to say something but changes his mind.

  “Isaac?”

  Yes?

  “Do you think Daddy loves you even though he never got to see you alive?”

  I know he does.

  “What does beloved mean?”

  It means dearly loved.

  “Do you think Daddy loves me dearly?”

  Of course he does, Grace. Very dearly. He would die for you.

  “He would?”

  He absolutely would.

  “I should probably give him his picture back.”

  I think you should.

  “Isaac?”

  Yes?

  “What color are your eyes?”

  They were blue.

  “Oh.”

  Grace . . .

  “It’s okay. I know we aren’t exactly alike.”

  No two people are. He pauses. But, Grace?

  “Yeah?”

  We’re more alike than you think.

  * * *

  I wait for Daddy to start snoring before tiptoeing into their bedroom. I stand quietly until my eyes adjust to the dark. His wallet is open on the dresser. I slide the photo in the slot under his driver’s license, being careful not to make any noise. On my way out I dare myself to look back at my parents. The light from the moon shining through the window throws a glow on Mama and Daddy’s bed. Daddy lays on his side, his mouth shaped like an O. Mama’s eyes are open, staring toward the window. She turns her head toward me.

  “Good night, Grace,” she whispers.

  “Night, Mama.”

  4

  As if Mama doesn’t have enough to worry about with another baby coming, Chastity is claiming to have the flu again. She’s splayed out on the sofa, moaning into the cushion. Her pale complexion definitely helps make the act look convincing. I give her a look that says I know your tricks but take it back when I see her bloodshot eyes. The dark circles under them make her look like a sad puppy.

  Joy stands next to the sofa and studies Chastity’s face. “You’re faking.”

  “Am not. My stomach hurts.”

  “Leave her alone, Joy,” I say. “Maybe she really is sick this time.”

  Chastity turns her back to us, holding her belly. Mama leans over the sofa. She kisses Chastity’s forehead and pets her chubby arm. She’s not wearing stockings and the tiny blue veins behind her knees look like a cluster of
rivers on a weathered map.

  “Let her rest,” she says to us.

  I grab a banana off the kitchen table on my way to the loft, where I find Lyle napping on the back pew. I’ve started bringing softer things for him to eat. I set the fruit next to his feet and watch him sleep. Sometimes old people look like babies. Maybe time goes backward as people age. Maybe I’ll get to see Isaac again someday after all.

  Lyle makes a smacking noise with his mouth, waking himself up. He opens his eyes and nearly falls off the bench when he sees me.

  “I’m sorry I surprised you,” I say.

  “It’s okay.” He rubs his stubbly chin and sits upright. “Force of habit.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “When you’ve been kicked out of as many places as I have you learn to be ready to run. Even in your sleep.” He eyes the banana. “That for me?”

  “My sister’s sick,” I say, as he starts peeling.

  “Well, that’s a darn shame. Which one?”

  “Chastity. She’s the youngest.”

  “The one in the blue dress.”

  So he was watching us that day we came up here. Maybe he watches us all the time.

  “Yup,” I say. “That one.”

  “Kids are resilient. She’ll be fine.”

  “You sure know lots of big words for a bum.”

  He laughs at this. “I used to be smart,” he says. “Gettin’ dumber by the day.”

  “How come you don’t have a house?”

  “Same reason I don’t have a job.”

  “I bet Mrs. Norberg would hire you. Then you wouldn’t . . .”

  “Don’t you worry ’bout me. I like it this way.”

  “You do?”

  “Beats the hell out of being at work all day just to sleep in a real bed. I have enough to get by.”

  I’ve never heard anyone say the H-word except having to do with sinners. Daddy says that’s where you’ll go for swearing. I whisper a silent prayer for Lyle so he won’t end up in h-e-l-l for naming it out loud.

  “Pardon my French,” he says, checking his pocket before resting both hands in his lap. I put both of mine on top of one of his to help make the trembling stop. Water rises up in the corner of his eyes, then quickly disappears as he pulls his thoughts inside himself and his hands from under my palms.

  “You best go back to the house before someone worries,” he says.

  “Okay. Are you sure you don’t need anything?”

  “Not anything you can give me, Gracie. But thanks for asking. Now git.”

  * * *

  I wake in the middle of the night to the sounds of Chastity whimpering in her sleep. When I put my arm around her, a sickly sludge moves under my hand, deep beneath her skin. Something inside my sister is foul. I’m just about to wake her when she sits up and pukes all over the bed.

  “Stay here!” I say.

  Chastity howls behind me as I run to the first floor, skipping every other step. I shake Daddy’s arm real hard to wake him.

  “Chastity threw up,” I say.

  Mama moves in slow motion, but Daddy throws back the covers and pulls on his flannel robe. By the time we reach my bedroom Hope is on her knees at the foot of the bed in her white nightgown, praying. Joy wanders in behind Daddy and me.

  “Pee-yew!” she says, holding her nose, which makes Chastity wail even more pitifully. Hope prays louder.

  Daddy tells us to hush. “Settle down, all of you. It’s just the flu. Grace, change the bedding. Hope, go back to bed. Joy, get a bucket in case she does it again.” He reaches across the pillow and rests the back of his big hand against Chastity’s flushed cheek. “You’ve got a little fever. I’ll go get some aspirin.”

  I’m scared to say it, but I can’t help myself. “She’s real sick, Daddy.”

  He smooths his hair over his head and it falls back over his brow. “The flu’s going around. She’ll be okay.”

  Chastity clutches herself, knees drawn to her chest, moaning.

  “Daddy, please believe me,” I say. “Something inside her has gone bad. I felt it.”

  He jerks his head toward me. “What do you mean you felt it?”

  Mama appears in the doorway wearing a thin nightgown. A small bulge pushes against the fabric below her belly button. She glances back and forth between Daddy and me. She takes a step forward, then pulls back again.

  “Here,” I say, putting my hand where Chastity is holding her stomach. “There’s where I felt it.”

  Daddy looks at me real hard, then back at Chastity. He tries to touch her belly, but she fights him. When he finally manages to get her hand out of the way and pokes his finger on the spot, I swear Chastity’s scream could wake the neighborhood. Daddy’s forehead crinkles into a row of uneven furrows and his mouth changes to a flat line. He scoops Chastity out of bed and whirls around, nearly knocking Mama over as he runs down the hall.

  The last I see of the three of them is my sister’s legs dangling over the side of Daddy’s big arms as he carries her out to the car. Mama lowers herself into the front seat, her face like a tired ghost in the moon’s light as they back out of the driveway.

  * * *

  Joy shoves her hands into her furry robe pockets and leans against the kitchen wall, one foot crossed over the other, while I make my breakfast the following morning.

  “How’d you know she had appendicitis?”

  “I didn’t. I just knew her insides were sick, that’s all.”

  I pluck a slice of bread from the toaster and drop it onto a chipped plate.

  “What are you, a witch or something?”

  I stop buttering and stare at her.

  “You act like a witch.” She spits the words from her mouth. “Falling down a tree without getting hurt. Talking to dead people. Seeing people’s insides like an X-ray machine or something. And look at your hair. You’ve even got witch hair.”

  “I’m not a witch!” I say, stomping my foot.

  Joy flinches. She tries to disguise her fear of me with a frown, but I know better. Hope walks into the kitchen carrying the little Bible that she takes everywhere. She holds it in front of her when she passes by as if to protect herself from me.

  “Hope, don’t be silly,” I say. “Joy’s just mad because I knew Chastity was sick.”

  “The Word of God says seers are evil,” she says. “Now, son of man, set your face against the daughters of your people who prophesy out of their own imagination. Prophesy against them.”

  “Be quiet, Hope.” I turn back toward Joy. “What have you been telling her?”

  “Ezekiel thirteen, verse seventeen,” Hope finishes, as if I plan to look it up later.

  “I didn’t tell her anything. Except that our sister is a witch.” She grins and sticks a finger in my face. “Hey, wait, Grace, what’s that on your nose?”

  “Stop it, Joy.”

  “Yup, pretty sure that’s a wart.”

  “That’s it. I’m telling Mama.”

  “Go ahead, but she hasn’t slept all night. She was up until dawn after they operated on Chastity.” She crosses her wiry arms back over her chest.

  “Operated?”

  “Yeah, her appendix burst. I thought you knew.”

  Hope drops to her knees. “Our Father in Heaven . . .”

  I don’t say anything more, just walk back upstairs and into my bedroom closet. I shut the door and sit on the board that runs over the ductwork.

  “Isaac?”

  Yes?

  “Was it you? Did you tell me about Chastity’s sickness?”

  Of course not, Grace.

  “Then who did?”

  You did.

  “What do you mean, I did? I don’t tell myself things.”

  In a way you do.

  “That doesn’t make sense.”

  Remember how your mama knew when Hope was going to get run over by the ice-cream truck? She has the Knowing, too.

  “Mama does?”

  Yes, but she’s blocked it. She’s af
raid of what she might hear if she quiets her mind.

  “Quiets her mind? My head is noisy all the time, like there’s a whole choir in there. Not just you, Isaac, but a whole chorus of messages all coming in at once.”

  That’s because you’re still young. As you get older you’ll be able to filter the Knowing better.

  “Is that why I have this . . . this extra intuition? Because Mama gave it up and I had to take it over?”

  Everyone is offered this gift, but most people turn away from it at a very young age. Truth frightens people. You’re one of the brave ones.

  “Sometimes I’m frightened, Isaac. Daddy doesn’t like me knowing things. He thinks it’s of the devil. I can see it in his eyes when he looks at me. Even my red hair, like the devil.” I hold out a thick wad of hair in case he hasn’t noticed before.

  He doesn’t understand it. He’s afraid of what he doesn’t know.

  “Grace! You’re going to be late for church!” Joy hollers up from the bottom of the stairs.

  “Coming!” I yell back.

  “Isaac, are you still there?”

  I’m always here, Grace.

  “I wish you could be here, like a real brother.”

  I am.

  “Grace, we’re leaving without you!”

  The front door bangs. I jump up without saying goodbye to my brother but by the time I get downstairs, they’re all gone. I grab my Bible off the dining room table and run across the street just in time to make Sunday school before the singing starts. Joy is sitting in the back row with her friend Mari-Beth. When I walk in they both set a pointy paper cup from the drinking fountain dispenser on their heads. Their whispered word bounces around the room like a perfect skipping stone.

  Witch.

  5

  Chastity came home from the hospital the same day as Apollo 11 landed on the moon. Daddy wouldn’t let us watch the landing because he says if the Lord wanted us to be on the moon he’d have put us there in the first place. But it’s all they’ve been showing on TV. Even though we didn’t get to view it in real time we’ve seen it play over and over again on the news. At night I like to go to the window and wave. I know the astronauts can’t see me, but I figure they need us all rooting for them up there. Plus they still have to find their way back down.