Every Day After

by Laura Golden

  I was taping the first corner to the glass when Mrs. Hinkle came scurrying through. She came to a sudden halt and stared at my sign. “Land sakes, look at that! Letting her trash up our front windows when I cleaned them just this morning. Injustice! That’s what it is.”

  I looked over at Mr. Hinkle, expecting to see his usual twinkly eyes and slyly grinning lips, but they’d disappeared. His face was hard, his teeth clenched. He jammed his hand into his pocket, yanked out the locket, and marched over to Mrs. Hinkle. Not an inch from her face he hollered, “I’ve had enough! After forty-two years of your yammering on and on and on, I’ve had enough, I tell you!”

  Mrs. Hinkle, for possibly the first time in her entire life, was stunned into silence. “Why, Herbert,” she whispered.

  “Don’t you ‘Why, Herbert’ me. If I have to hear one more word, I’ll fire you. Don’t you dare think I won’t.” He jerked his thumb toward me. “I already got your replacement lined up.” He snatched up her hand and plunked the locket into it. “There you are. That should keep you quiet for a while. Though why in this world Lizzie had to give it up to you is beyond me. There has to be a more deserving person out there.” He closed her hand around the locket. “Injustice! That’s what it is.”

  Mr. Hinkle stomped back to his counter, and Mrs. Hinkle slumped off into the back. I finished hanging my sign, making sure it was straight and checking that none of the words were hidden from view.

  Mr. Hinkle’s outburst had convinced me that there was some justice in the world. That outburst was exactly what Mrs. Hinkle deserved. I wasn’t sure how long her pouting spell would last, but I thought if there was any justice for Mr. Hinkle, it’d last for the next forty-two years.

  I turned back into our drive just before nine and rushed inside to check on Mama. Mrs. Butler had helped her out onto the back porch and was sitting beside her, cutting some squares for a new quilt.

  “How is she?” I asked.

  Mrs. Butler glanced over at Mama. “She’s fine.” She paused and then went on, “She’ll be just fine.” She went back to her cutting and I went inside to grab $10.90 from the emergency savings jar and $1.60 from the jar under my bed. I carefully folded the money together with the $10.00 from the locket and put it into my pocket.

  I’d just finished combing my hair when a knock at the front door rattled through the air. Mrs. Butler must’ve heard too, because she’d already let the whole gaggle of ’em in by the time I made it to the front door.

  “Good morning,” she was saying as I came into the parlor. “I trust you all slept well.”

  All the men—Mr. Cooper, the sheriff, and Dr. Heimler—nodded and removed their hats. “Very well, thank you,” they said. But not Mrs. Sawyer. Oh, no. She hadn’t slept a wink worrying herself silly about us.

  Mrs. Butler tried to be patient. “I’m terribly sorry to hear that, Mrs. Sawyer. May I get you some coffee?”

  “That may do some good, if you don’t mind.”

  “Not at all. Please make yourselves comfortable. Lizzie, will you help me?”

  In the kitchen, I confronted Mrs. Butler about her overly nice ways. “You haven’t got to be that friendly, you know. A pair of ’em aren’t all that nice anyway.”

  She placed the sugar bowl onto a serving tray and said, “Don’t you know you can catch more flies with honey than with vinegar?”

  “No, ma’am, but it sure does sound like something Mama would say.” I took enough coffee cups from the cabinet to serve the men too.

  Mrs. Butler stopped filling the creamer and looked at me. “You know, I do believe that’s where I heard it.”

  We finished pouring the coffee and put it onto the tray with the cream and sugar. We placed it on the table in front of the sofa and let the guests serve themselves. Dr. Heimler and Erin were the only ones who didn’t take any.

  “How is your mama this morning, Lizzie?” he asked. “Do you mind if I take a look at her?”

  “She’s fine, sir. She’s out on the back porch.”

  “Shall we, then?”

  We all herded out to the porch and converged around Mama. Erin’s eyes darted back and forth between Mama and the doctor. He bent and gently held Mama’s wrist, feeling her pulse. He nodded and placed her hand back on her book.

  “Well, Dr. Heimler, what do you think?” Mrs. Butler whispered, her voice tight. She took a deep breath and laid her hand across her chest.

  The doctor stepped over to me, the lines across his forehead softer than they’d been the day before. “I understand that you want to take care of your mama, Lizzie, but how are you going to manage that with no place to live?”

  “Oh, we’ll have a place to live, all right, and it’ll be here. I’ll pay Mr. Cooper his money right this minute, and we’ll pay him every month from here on. Don’t you doubt it.”

  Mrs. Sawyer huffed. “And where exactly are you getting the money? It’s certainly not falling from the sky.”

  “No, ma’am, it’s not. It’s coming straight out of my pocket.” I pulled the $22.50 from my dress pocket and marched the neatly folded money right over to Mr. Cooper. “Here you go,” I said. “Go on and count it. It’s all there.”

  Mr. Cooper did as I instructed. After he finished counting, he looked up, his jaw hanging lower than a hound dog’s ears. “I’ll be doggoned,” he said. “It’s all here.” He tipped his hat at me. “Pleasure doin’ business with you, Miss Lizzie. I hope everything works out for you. Now, I do believe my job here is done. I’ll just be going.”

  Mrs. Sawyer gasped. “Don’t you have any interest, Mr. Cooper, in exactly where that money came from?”

  Erin gaped at the money being shoved into Mr. Cooper’s pocket. “How in the world did you get that much money? Mr. Hinkle isn’t paying you that much. You stole it, didn’t you?”

  Mr. Cooper stared down at me, awaiting my explanation. Well, he’d hear it. They’d all hear it good.

  “I most certainly did not steal it. I sold my locket to Mr. Hinkle, took some money from Mama and Daddy’s savings jar, and worked for the rest myself. Go ask Mr. Hinkle if you don’t believe me. He’ll tell you real quick I’m not lying.”

  Mr. Cooper patted my shoulder. “Good enough for me.” He wheeled around and was gone before anyone else could question me.

  I looked at Erin. The color had drained from her face. She looked as if she was about to bust out crying, her nostrils flared, her chin quivering.

  “Listen, Lizzie,” said Sheriff Dawson in a voice so soft it was as if he was scared of it. “You make it all sound good, but I ain’t so sure it’ll work.”

  “I’ve got one thing to say,” I yelled, “and I’m only gonna say it once! I’m sick to death of you telling me what’ll work and what won’t! Mama needs me, that’s all I know. And I need her. Nobody can help her but me; I know it deep inside me. I will not leave her like Daddy did. I’m staying. I’m trying. There’s no law against trying, is there?”

  There. I’d said it. They could love it or hate it. Their choice.

  Dr. Heimler placed a hand on my shoulder. “There’s no law against trying, but you must understand that chances are you won’t get her back. Still, I do believe she stands a much higher chance of recovery with you here. Without you, she’ll continue to shut out the world until eventually she’ll be lost for good. I’d like to help you try, if you’ll let me.” He knelt down and looked straight into my eyes. “You may not think she notices your presence, but I promise she knows when you’re here and when you’re not.”

  A flood of emotion washed over me. I’d known all along. Every time I talked to Mama, waved to her, brought her a meal, I knew she felt me there even if she didn’t show it. Now I had to do something for Mama that Dr. Heimler never could—prove to her I’d stay, even if I lost my job, my pride, my most valuable possession. No matter what, I’d always stay.

  “I promise, Mama,” I whispered. “I’m not leaving you. Ever.”

  Then it happened. Erin lost it. She lurched at Mrs. Sawyer and c
lutched her mother’s dress, tears streaming down her red cheeks. “Please, do something! It’s not fair. You can’t let her stay. You can’t! I’ll never be good enough with her in my way.”

  Mrs. Sawyer grabbed ahold of Erin and pulled her close. “What in heaven’s name has gotten into you? Good enough for what?” For the first time since I’d known her, Mrs. Sawyer finally looked embarrassed.

  Erin pushed away from Mrs. Sawyer’s grasp. “What do you care?” she shouted. “You don’t. You only wanted me because you couldn’t have your own baby, didn’t you? Well, I’m not yours, and I never will be, so stop fooling yourself. One day I’ll be somebody. I’ll be somebody so important, my real mother won’t be able to ignore me anymore. Then she’ll be sorry she ever left me. But I’m already sorry. Sorry I have to be stuck with you.”

  The doctor and the sheriff stood there, their eyes darting back and forth from each other to Erin and her mother. I didn’t know what they were thinking, but I knew what I was: It was true. Erin was adopted. The thought of it rolled over and over again in my mind, and in that moment I almost felt sorry for her. Almost. Until she came barging at me.

  “It’s not fair! You always get everything you want. And I’m not going to let it happen this time.”

  “I don’t get everything I want. If I did, my daddy would be standing here right now. But he isn’t, and I’m not sure he ever will be again.” The words spilled out. The truth spilled out.

  “But you still have your mother.” Tears rolled down her cheeks and dripped onto the porch floor. “I’ve never even seen mine. Do you know what that’s like? She gave me up before I could even know her. She didn’t want to know me. I figure, if you can’t trust your own mother, you can’t trust anybody.”

  Mrs. Sawyer leaned over to Erin. “What about me?” she whispered. “You don’t trust me?”

  Erin’s look could’ve burned a hole through steel. “I’ve already trusted somebody like you. She said I belonged to her. She said she loved me.” Erin wiped the tears from her cheeks. “Well, not long after that, the doctor told her she was gonna have a baby of her own—a baby who truly did belong to her. And where did I end up? Right back where I’d started. The orphanage. Why should I think you’re any different? Why should I trust you? Nobody really wants an orphan, do they?”

  Mrs. Sawyer spoke, her voice almost a whisper. “If we didn’t want you, then why did we move over here from Georgia to protect you? We were trying to give you a fresh start, where no one knew; where none of the kids would tease you or laugh at you; where you could be normal.”

  “Normal?” Erin’s voice sliced through the heavy air. “Just go on and say it, why don’t you? You’re ashamed for people to know you had to go off and adopt a kid instead of having one of your own. That’s the real reason we moved, and don’t you try and say any different. Those kids couldn’t have hurt me. I can take care of myself. I don’t need you, or anybody else, moving me here or anywhere, you understand me?”

  Mrs. Sawyer looked as crushed as stalks of sorghum cane after milling. She steadied herself against the porch railing. After a few seconds, she found her voice. “I have some things that need my immediate attention. If you’ll all excuse me.”

  Mrs. Sawyer tried to put her arm around Erin’s shoulder, but Erin dodged her. She stomped off the porch and around the house. Mrs. Sawyer followed, trying to keep up. I looked over at Mama and I knew that even in the state she was in, she loved me. She would never give me up. That, I had never doubted. And I loved her right back, and I wasn’t about to give her up either. Erin had never known that.

  Without thinking twice, I took off after Erin. “Wait!” I shouted when I reached the drive. Mrs. Sawyer turned to face me. Erin didn’t.

  “Erin, you were right. I’m sorry. I should’ve just stayed out of the essay contest. It’s true. I do want to win everything, and it isn’t fair. If I had it to do over, I wouldn’t sign up in the first place.”

  She turned. I tried to read her face, but there was nothing to read. Her lips were pulled into a hard, thin line, her eyes blank. “I figured you’d get desperate enough to apologize, but I’ve known you long enough to know you don’t apologize for anything.”

  I was saying I was sorry, and I truly was, and she was gonna hear me whether she wanted to or not. “Maybe the old Lizzie didn’t apologize, but the new one does.”

  Erin laughed, her long braids swaying like snakes about to strike. “The new Lizzie? But the old Lizzie was supposed to be perfect.”

  She started to go. I grabbed her hand to stop her. Our eyes locked. Her pupils grew and shrank as shadows danced across the drive. She didn’t drop my hand. “You listen to me, Erin. I don’t care if you believe me or not, and I’m not about to stand around here all day trying to convince you, but I am sorry. If you’re trying to make me scared of you, you’re wasting your time. I’m not scared—not anymore. You don’t have to be either. If you want to trust someone, you can trust Ben. He won’t let you down. I know it’s hard to trust people, but I guess we have to try, or else we’ll end up alone. Is that what you want?” What I’d said was truth. Love-it-or-hate-it truth.

  Erin’s face was all pinched up like she was about to cry again. She let go of me. “Ben?” Her voice cracked. “How can I trust Ben? He’s moved into your house.” She dropped my hand and walked away. I watched her until she disappeared from view.

  Though I couldn’t see her, I knew—love it or hate it, she believed me. Whether she forgave me was her decision, her business. I’d done what I could to help her, even though she’d done all she could to hurt me.

  I jogged back to Mama filled with a new pride. I’d admitted a wrong to a person who, at this moment, was determined to be a pure enemy, and yet I’d never felt so strong. So … free.

  Dr. Heimler looked at me and smiled. “Don’t you think you should start posting some signs asking for a few more boarders? I really don’t think two is going to be much help.”

  “Done,” I said. “Already got one hanging at Hinkle’s.”

  “Good. I suppose we need to have a long talk about your mama. See where we stand.”

  Sheriff Dawson cleared his throat to get my attention. “Before I go,” he said as he reached for my arm, “I’d like a word with you in private.”

  Dr. Heimler shrugged. He took Mama’s hand and led her carefully toward the door. She went willingly. Mrs. Butler went inside to ready Mama’s chair.

  The sheriff squeezed in close to me and bent down to my ear. “I’m real glad you think you’ve found a way to stay with your mama and all, but I don’t much appreciate you pullin’ that trick on me yesterday. Nobody’s gonna take me seriously if I can’t even get …” His voice trailed off, and he swiped his hand across his shiny forehead. “I mean, what are folks gonna think when they find out how you got away? You got to promise me something.”

  I glanced over at Dr. Heimler. He was only halfway to the door.

  “Promise what?” I whispered back.

  Sheriff Dawson edged in closer. “Promise me you won’t ever say one word about exactly how you got away from me. I don’t care what tall tale you gotta come up with, as long as it don’t make me look so stupid as the truth.”

  Pictures of big, burly Sheriff Dawson hovering over those bushes gagging like crazy flashed through my mind. My belly rolled in and out like waves of hay blowing in the breeze. My stomach muscles tightened to keep me from busting out laughing worse than I ever had. It’d been the funniest thing I’d seen since birth, but it gave me power. Power to barter. One thing was certain—Sheriff Dawson was terrified of someone finding out his weakness and of becoming the laughingstock of Bittersweet, and that terror far outweighed his fear of Mrs. Sawyer and his need to cart me off to Brightside Orphanage.

  I looked him dead in the eyes. He winced. “I’ll promise on one condition,” I said.

  “Shhh.” He put his finger against his lips and pointed at the doctor.

  I lowered my voice. “I promise I won’t say any
thing as long as you don’t come around here again trying to haul me off to the orphanage. All I want to do is stay here and help Mama. If you get your way, I get mine. Fair is fair. We got a deal?” I stuck out my hand.

  He glanced around once more at the doctor. His back was turned to us now, but his shoulders were shaking rather suspiciously. The sheriff eyed him for a minute, then took my hand. “Deal.”

  I walked back over to Dr. Heimler and Mama as if nothing had happened. The sheriff cleared his throat and said to Dr. Heimler, “You didn’t … uhhh … hear any of that, did you?”

  The doctor stopped Mama and looked at the sheriff in perfectly acted confusion, a performance that would’ve made Douglas Fairbanks proud. “Hear what?”

  “Oh, nothin’. Well, I need to be headin’ on out; got lots of duties that need tendin’ to.”

  Sheriff Dawson strutted like a rooster around the side of the house. When he finally started his car, all seriousness was shattered by the two of us, Dr. Heimler and me, laughing till we cried.

  Ben had been right that day on the street. Dr. Heimler wasn’t the type of doctor to go around abandoning folks in mental wards. He was the kind that truly cared, truly wanted to help. He’d proven it.

  Like I said, people aren’t always what they seem. Sometimes they seem worse than they are. Sometimes better. The trouble is you never can tell who is who. That was why, as far as Dr. Heimler went, I was going to trust him, because for Mama’s sake, it was better to be safe than sorry.

  Twenty-One

  A Friend Is Not Known Till He Is Lost

  Mid-June came fast, with less rain and more heat. June had always been my favorite month. I loved it for the long summer evenings: the fireflies, the crickets, the local whip-poor-will whistling its name at dusk. The evenings were peaceful and warm. They soothed away bits and pieces of the sadness I felt about Daddy not showing up on my birthday, but they couldn’t heal me completely.