This I Know

by Eldonna Edwards

  By Saturday Chastity is good as normal, playing with all the coloring books and paper dolls the church families bought her for being sick. Mama says the fever made Chastity delirious so she doesn’t remember much about the night she went to the hospital. Daddy remembers. He hasn’t spoken more than two words to me since Chas got sick. I catch him staring at me from time to time. Sometimes he looks away, other times he stares me down until I look away. In my mind I try to will him to smile, but it never works. His thin lips run across his jaw straight as the ironed crease in Joy’s blue jeans. He thinks I’m afraid of him. I’m more afraid of the not-him, that person he becomes when he’s around me.

  Daddy isn’t the only one being weird. Ever since she got back, Chastity and Joy have been acting all buddy-buddy. This is just fine by me. We don’t like the same things, anyway. Take, for instance, peanut butter. I never get tired of it but Joy and Chastity can’t stand it. The two of them wrinkle their noses when they walk into the kitchen just as I stuff the last bite of a PJ sandwich into my mouth.

  “Bet you wish you hadn’t spent your allowance already,” Joy says, licking a Slo Poke sucker.

  When I ignore her remark she leans forward with her elbows on the table and her skinny hind end pointing up in the air. “Hey, Grace, what if you were able to get money for more candy?”

  “I’m not doing your chores, Joy.”

  “You don’t have to do anything. Well . . . not much.” She turns toward Chastity and they make big eyes at each other. I don’t like the looks of this at all.

  Chastity takes a delicate lick of her sucker, then smacks her perfect lips. “We got an idea. A really good one.”

  “Yeah,” adds Joy. “You’ve got something people need, Grace. You’re special.”

  Chastity perches on her knees across the table from me. “Special,” she echoes.

  I’m not about to fall for their tricks.

  “What are you talking about? You mean because I’m a . . .” I pause just the right amount of time, then leap out of my chair and plunge my head toward them. “Witch!”

  They both yelp. Chastity’s Slo Poke slides across her cheek, leaving a trail of caramel from her mouth to her ear. I burst out laughing. She opens her mouth to holler, but Joy puts her hand over Chastity’s face and stares back at me.

  “Yeah, Grace,” she says. “Because you’re a witch. But not a bad witch. A good witch, right? ” She tilts her head to one side, her right hand still cupped over our sister’s mouth. Maybe it’s stuck there. “One who can help people,” she adds.

  “What are you getting at, Joy? I don’t trust you.”

  I swipe a dab of peanut butter off my plate with my finger and stick it in my mouth, just to bug them.

  “We could set up a booth. Kids come to you with questions and you give them the answers in exchange for a quarter. It’d be fun. And it would help people, Grace.”

  Joy slowly removes her hand from Chastity’s mouth and gives her a stay quiet or else look. Chastity pads over to the sink and cleans her face with a dishcloth before sitting back down and smiling sweetly at me. I don’t trust them. The two of them being so nice, it doesn’t feel right. Not one bit.

  “I can’t. It’s not right to make money like that. Besides, Daddy would blow a fuse. You know how he feels about . . .”

  “He wouldn’t have to know, Grace. This is your chance to prove you have a good thing—what is it you call it?” She pauses to glance at Chastity, then looks back at me. “The Knowing, right? You know things that can help people. Like how you helped Chastity.” She drapes her arm around Chastity’s shoulder and pulls her close. They are downright pathetic.

  “You know it’s not something I would do for money,” I say.

  “The money is to sort out the people who really need you. Otherwise we’d have to help everybody. Remember how tired Jesus got when people found out he could heal others? It’ll be a secret club. I’ll set up everything. All you have to do is, well, whatever it is you do.”

  I want to believe her, and the way she puts it I feel myself start to bend a little. “I don’t know, Joy. It still doesn’t sound right.”

  She moves to my side of the table and rests her hands on my shoulders, turning me toward her. “I’m sorry I called you a witch. I didn’t realize how special you are.”

  I look over at Chastity, who is nodding like a dashboard bobblehead.

  Joy squeezes my shoulders. “You don’t have to do anything but show up when we’re ready for the first club meeting. We’ll hold it in the loft.”

  “No!” I say. “Not there.”

  “All right, all right. Not there. Whatever you say. We’ll find another place. Okay?”

  I don’t answer.

  “Okay, Grace?”

  “Okay,” I hear myself say. But even as I say it, it’s like someone else is speaking the words.

  * * *

  I finish up the dishes, then follow the sound of the piano to the living room. Mama is practicing a song called “My God Is Real” for church tomorrow. I’ve heard it before on her Mahalia Jackson record. This is the first time Mama’s tried it out for church. She sings the song a bit different than the record, but just like the hi-fi version it gives me goose bumps. When she gets to the part about his love being like pure gold I nearly start crying.

  Mama stops and frowns at me. “That bad?”

  “Oh no, Mama. It’s that good!”

  She closes the lid on our old upright piano. “It’ll sound better with the proper accompanist.”

  Mama seems more like her old self today. Her cheeks are flushed and her shoulders are back, like she’s about to open wings behind her. Singing seems to make Mama remember herself.

  “You sound great, Mama. You always do. Better than the radio.”

  She stacks the sheet music into a neat pile on her lap and smiles. “I sang on the radio once.”

  “You did?”

  “I did. It was the college radio station where your daddy and I met. They ran a singing contest and I won.”

  She gets a faraway look and I worry I’ll lose her to that place she goes when she drinks her morning coffee, but she shakes her head and smiles. “That was another life. This is a better one.”

  “Really?”

  Mama holds her arm out and I sit next to her on the bench. She wraps herself around me and kisses the top of my head. “Really,” she says.

  I hold still as a statue, not wanting to move, not ever. I suddenly understand why that song makes me want to cry. Mama’s love feels like pure gold.

  The back door slams. “Izzy?” That’s what Daddy calls Mama when he’s in a good mood.

  She tucks her sheet music into the piano bench and I follow her into the kitchen.

  “There you are,” he says. He kisses her on the cheek. “Grace, go round up your sisters. I’ve got a surprise for all of you.”

  Uh-oh. His last surprise, the one where he decided to use ketchup instead of tomato sauce on spaghetti, didn’t go over too well. But it’s the longest sentence he’s spoken to me in weeks, which leaves me speechless and a bit dazed. Maybe he’s finally forgiven me for knowing what I shouldn’t have known about Chastity being so sick.

  “Get going,” he says to me, then whispers into Mama’s ear and she smiles.

  I find Chas and Joy in the driveway racing grasshoppers. Chastity flings her bug in the air just as I reach them.

  “Ew, it spit on me!” She wipes her hands on Joy’s pedal pushers.

  “Hey!” Joy says.

  “Daddy wants you both in the kitchen right now,” I say.

  Joy slips our little sister’s dime into her own pocket. “I win!”

  I run upstairs and stand in Hope’s doorway. She’s working on a Popsicle stick replica of Noah’s ark. I wait for her to gently glue a stick to the roof so I don’t startle her. “You need to get downstairs.” She knows by the way I say it she’d better come.

  Mama is waiting by herself in the kitchen when we get there. “Your daddy we
nt to get something. He’ll be right back.”

  “Somebody get the door!” he yells from the front porch.

  I run to help and can’t believe what I find. Daddy’s arms are full, right up to his face, with toys and games. When I open the door he rushes to the kitchen and drops the whole pile on the table. None of us is brave enough to make the first move in case these are for a church family or missionaries. Daddy grabs a noisy round tin of Chinese checkers and holds it up. He waits until the marbles stop rattling.

  “These are all to share,” he says. “No fighting, you hear?” He pulls a Bible trivia game from the pile and hands it to Hope. She clutches it to her chest.

  Joy slides a Parcheesi game from the bottom. “What’s the occasion?”

  “Why do I need an occasion to treat my girls?” He slips a box from his pocket into Mama’s hands. “Especially my best girl.”

  Mama flips open the lid and grins like a little kid. Daddy pulls a sparkly blue necklace from the box and drapes it around her slender neck, latching the clasp in the back. She fingers it with one hand, smiling. “We can’t really afford this,” she says.

  “We got our tax refund. Apparently I overpaid last year. I wanted to do something nice for my family,” he says.

  I pluck a deck of old maid cards from the top of the stack. “Who wants to play?”

  Before anyone can answer Daddy butts in. “Wait. There’s one more thing.” He holds up a set of keys. “I bought us a new set of wheels.”

  We all race to the window to find a green Volkswagen bus in the driveway. It’s not new, but it’s new to us. And way better than our rusty old station wagon. When Mama raises her eyebrows he pats her protruding belly.

  “We’re going to need more room,” he says. “It’s only got thirty thousand miles on it and I got a clergy discount from the dealer. He said these things go and go forever.”

  Mama shakes her head. “I don’t know, Henry.”

  “Who wants to go for a spin?” he says, leading Mama by the hand.

  “I do, I do!” we all say at once.

  When all six of us are finally settled into the bus, Daddy backs out of the driveway. The engine reminds me of our lawn mower. Daddy honks at Harold Weaver when we pass our church. The horn sounds more like the roadrunner cartoon than a car and we all giggle. Mr. Weaver waves from his ladder, where he’s painting the window trim, but I don’t think he recognizes us. To tell you the truth I hardly recognize us either, this happy family all together, nobody quarreling, our parents giddy as ducks in water.

  6

  Joy appears at the end of my bed the following Saturday while I’m working on my math homework. Her white Keds have grass stains on them, and one of the laces has broken off so the bow is tinier than the other. Her arms are stained with Magic Marker.

  “We’re ready for you, Grace,” she says.

  I add another set of teeth marks to my pencil before answering. “I decided I don’t want to do it. It doesn’t feel right.”

  “What? You can’t let all those kids down now. They’re counting on you. Besides, some of them already paid their money.”

  “How much?”

  “Twenty-five cents each.”

  “How many kids?”

  “Eight so far.”

  “Two bucks already?” Maybe this isn’t such a bad idea. After all, it is to help people.

  “Well, I get half for being your agent,” she says. “You and Chastity split the rest.”

  “That’s not fair! I’m doing all the work!”

  Joy sits on the edge of the bed and gently takes the math book out of my hand. “Grace, we’re not doing this for the money, remember? We’re doing it to help people.”

  “It seems like you’re the one getting the most help.”

  I reach for my book, but she sets it on the floor and kicks it under the bed.

  I sigh. “Why does Chastity get so much?”

  “To keep her quiet. If she tells we can’t help anybody, can we?”

  “What about Hope?”

  “She rode along with Daddy to call on people at the nursing home.”

  When I don’t move Joy taps her foot impatiently. “Look, Grace. You already agreed to it. Besides, I think you’re going to like what we have in store for you.” She grabs my arm and pulls me off the bed.

  “All right, I’m coming!” I say.

  * * *

  As we round the corner behind the barn I can hardly believe my eyes. Joy has outdone herself this time. She and Chastity must have dragged a refrigerator box home from the hardware store. They painted it all swirly with markers and cut a square out for a window. A hand-lettered cardboard sign hangs above the opening:

  AMAZING GRACE!

  Fortunes Told: Twenty-Five Cents

  Joy hands me Daddy’s paisley bathrobe and a blue bath towel.

  “What am I supposed to do with these?”

  “Wrap the towel around your head. You know, like a gypsy fortune-teller. The robe will make you look more authentic. Here, I’ll help you.”

  I stick my arms into the sleeves and Joy ties the belt at my waist. There’s a foot of leftover robe puddled on the ground. She wraps my hair in the towel and clips it with a brooch from Mama’s jewelry box, then snaps two earrings with silver balls dangling from them onto my ears.

  “Ow!”

  “Sorry, Grace.” She takes a step back. “You look great!”

  “I feel stupid.”

  Chastity runs toward us from around the side of the barn, wearing a yellow jumper and white sandals. “Wow! You look like a real gypsy,” she says.

  Joy shoves a kitchen stool under my rear end, then picks up the refrigerator box and drops it over my head so the window is in front of my face. She claps her hands together and squeals.

  “Perfect!”

  “I feel ridiculous.” The words echo against the cardboard walls of my tall, dark room.

  “You’ll get used to it, Amazing Grace.”

  I have to admit I like the way that sounds.

  Chastity bounces up and down, her blond pigtails flouncing behind her. “Here come the first two kids!”

  Joy leans in close to my face. “Okay, Grace. Just be yourself. Except with, you know, a little flair, okay?” She winks at me and straightens my turban. “You really do look good,” she adds.

  Doug Lewis is first in line. Joy takes his quarter and tells him he can ask one question. He strolls up to the window, looking corny as all get-out with ears that stick straight out from a head that’s too big for his body. Sort of like if Charlie Brown had a homely brother.

  “Hi, Grace,” he says.

  “Hi, Doug.”

  “You look neato.”

  “Thanks.”

  “So is it true you can tell the future?”

  “Sometimes. If you really want me to, that is. What do you want to know?”

  Doug kicks at the dirt. “Well”—he drops his voice to a whisper—“I want to know if I’m going to marry Sheila Metzloff.”

  I swallow hard. Sheila Metzloff is fourteen, two years older than Doug, and a long ways out of his range in the looks department. He’s smarter, but nowhere near smart enough to convince Sheila to marry him.

  “You sure that’s what you wanna know?”

  He lowers his head and kicks some more. “Yeah, that’s it. That’s what I paid my money for. And you don’t get to tell anybody what I asked, either. Joy promised.”

  “Okay,” I say.

  I close my eyes and think about Doug. I picture him as a man in an office with wood paneling. On his desk sits a photograph of a woman and two little girls. I squinch my eyes tighter to see the woman’s face. It’s not Sheila but amazingly, she’s even prettier. She’s looking up at grown-up Doug, smiling. Her face is glowing.

  I open my eyes. “Doug?”

  “Yeah?” he says. “Wait. You don’t have to tell me. Better not to ruin my day.” He starts to turn away.

  “Hang on, Doug. Look, you’re not going to marry Shei
la.”

  His long face drops about a mile longer.

  “But you are going to get married to a pretty lady and have two beautiful children. And guess what?”

  “What?” he asks, like he’s not sure he wants to hear the answer.

  I crook my finger for him to come closer. When he’s right in front of me, I cup my hand around his donkey ear and whisper, “They got her ears, Doug. They’re beautiful girls.”

  He backs away slowly, his freckled face flushed and grinning. “Really? You’re not just saying that to make me feel better?”

  I shake my head.

  He smiles and walks off with his hands in his front pockets, his feet practically floating a foot off the ground.

  Joy rushes up to me, laughing. “What’d you tell him?”

  “Can’t say. It’s part of the deal.”

  “Oh, come on. You can tell me, Grace.”

  “No, I can’t. Won’t. I promised.”

  She glances at Doug walking up the street. “Well, whatever it was it sure is good advertising. Ready for another?”

  I nod.

  “C’mon, Shirley.” Joy waves her hand and Shirley Newhouse walks up to the window. Shirley’s in Joy’s class but looks a lot older. All the boys stare at her because she has the right shape.

  “You look silly, Grace,” she says when she reaches me.

  “I know. Joy’s idea.”

  “Well, it’s kind of like getting to play dress-up, I guess.”

  “Kinda.”

  “One question,” Joy says.

  Shirley glares at Joy until she walks away.

  “Okay. Here’s my question. How big are my boobs going to get before they stop growing?”

  I stifle a laugh. I know mine will never grow as big as hers are already.

  “And don’t you dare—”

  “Tell anybody. I know. Don’t worry, I won’t. I promise.”

  I look at Shirley’s chest, from one pointy side to the other. She doesn’t seem to mind. She just looks up at the clouds, snapping her gum. I suppose she’s used to it.

  “Size thirty-eight double D,” I say.