by Lisa Fowler
“What’s the matter, dear?” Mrs. Wallace asks, suddenly somber and serious. “Are you all right? Why, you’re as pale as a sheet.”
I look over all the good food Mrs. Wallace has on the table. Seems like all of a sudden, I don’t want it any more, that what’s important isn’t the food, or the belly full, or being able to eat all I want of something.
“What’s wrong, dear?” She gently places her knobby hand on top of mine. “Now that I look closer, you do look a bit tired. Didn’t you sleep well, dear?”
I nod.
“Don’t you like biscuits and bacon? Aren’t you fond of jelly?”
“Oh, yes, ma’am,” I say. “I like it fine. Reckon I’m just not as hungry as I thought.”
I feel my smile shrinking right along with my belly.
Staring into my lap, I think about what I done and how I ruined everything for everybody, destroying a whole bunch of lives: my daddy’s, the triplets’, and Abraham’s. And what’s more I’m the only one can fix things and set them right. I wonder if I’ve got the courage it takes to do it?
“Mrs. Wallace?”
“Yes, dear?”
“Um … well …”
“What’s bothering you, dear? Something you’d like to talk about? I might not have the answers, but I can do what old women do best, and that’s listen.”
I want to talk.
I want to tell her what I done.
I want to sling this weight from my shoulders and tell her right out loud how I’ve lied, and what I’ve stole, and what a horrible person I really am.
Since Daddy was an orphan and Mama’s mama and daddy died before I ever knew them, I never had a grandma or grandpa to ask questions to. Mrs. Wallace might be someone I could think of as a grandmother—if times and things were different, that is. But thinking of her like a grandmother almost makes it worse.
No way I want her thinking bad of me.
No way I want her knowing she’s got a thief living and breathing right here in her house.
“No, ma’am. I reckon not. May I be excused, please?”
“But, dear, you haven’t eaten a thing.”
“I know. Reckon I’ve lost my appetite.”
For three days I can’t eat and I can’t sleep. I lie on the bed with Lollipop by my side and stare at the ceiling. When darkness overtakes my room, I toss and turn from side to side and wait for morning to come. They’s an elephant jumping up and down on my chest and a lump big as a camel’s hump plugging my throat. When the sun finally stares in the window and it’s time to begin the day, I’m almost sorry. With the feelings of dread in my belly, all I want is for nighttime to come again so I can be alone—under the cover of darkness. Mrs. Wallace says stroking a cat is good for everything that ails you. I’m feared Lollipop’s about to lose every bit of her fur.
And I’m feared too that Mrs. Wallace knows why. Oh, she looks at me and smiles that sweet, cloudy-eyed smile, but deep down I think she knows what I done. She knows I’m the reason my daddy’s locked up; I’m the reason my family’s torn apart.
I know what I need to do. I know what I need to do, but I’ve not seen hide nor hair of Anita Silverstone, Norville Bryson, or Sheriff Nix. And I’ve not heard a word about my mama.
Until today.
“Chestnut, dear?” Mrs. Wallace calls from the bottom of the stairs. “Would you come down, please? There’s someone to see you.”
I shove my metal box with the evil stolen money inside up under my pillow. I smooth out the wrinkles of the quilt so no one will know they’s something under them pillows, give Lollipop a scruffing, and lean over and kiss her head.
“Coming!” I holler, my mind in a tizzy wondering who could be here to see me. Maybe, just maybe …
I can barely breathe thinking about who it might be, and then I look to the door.
“Chestnut?”
It’s not who I wanted to see.
But it is, I reckon, who I need to lay eyes to.
35
FULL BELLIES AND BOOKS
Chestnut, would you like to visit your daddy?” Anita Silverstone asks, smiling from ear to ear like now she’s the one that swallowed down the canary.
I look to Mrs. Wallace, asking permission to go.
“Well by all means, dear, go! Go, and tell your daddy hello! Have a nice long visit. Lollipop and I will be here when you get back.”
“Sure,” I say to Anita Silverstone. “Can we go and see the triplets too?”
“Why not?”
I follow her outside, waving good-bye to Mrs. Wallace on our way to the car. Norville Bryson, leaning against the car, nods and tips his lawman hat.
“I’ll tell you what,” says Anita Silverstone. “Why don’t we pay a visit to your brothers and sister first? Afterwards, we’ll go and see your father. Oh, and, Chestnut, I have another surprise for you.”
Wondering what her surprise could be, I look to her like she’s my best friend in the whole world. But I don’t believe it. How could I trust a woman who divides families for a living and splits up young’uns like bad apples from a basket?
“Sheriff Nix has located your mother. She’ll be arriving on the afternoon train.”
I can’t believe it! My mama! My dear, sweet, loving mama. I’ve waited more than two years to see her, and today’s the day my dream’s going to come true.
“You mean it? You really mean it? My mama’s coming, today?”
“Yes! I thought you might be excited about that.”
All of a sudden they’s a million ideas swirling around in my head like acorns in a hurricane. Has she changed? Will she know me when she sees me? Will she think I’ve grown into a woman now? Will she know the triplets? They’ve grown so since she’s seen them.
And then it hits me. Daddy. She’s coming here because Daddy’s in jail.
What’s Mama going to say? Will she forgive Daddy? Will they fuss or will they kiss and make up?
What about when she finds out what I done? Will I ever get to be with Mama and Daddy and the triplets after I’m arrested and thrown in the pokey for thieving?
This car ride that began so much better than I remember from the last time is turning out to be just as much of a disappointment.
Norville Bryson pulls the car in front of the large brick house with the rocking chairs on the front porch, flower baskets hanging low, and a big yellow dog in the yard. The triplets are there too, playing with the dog. They don’t even turn to look at the car. There’s more laughing, more squealing, and more hooting than I can remember hearing since we left Kentucky. Even the blindest man in the county could see the triplets are happy where they are.
Anita Silverstone gets out, opens my door, then slams it behind me. Still, the triplets don’t look. If I didn’t know better, I’d think they’d gone deaf.
“Chestnut!” Filbert yells, as we start down the walk toward the house. “Hey, look everybody, it’s Chestnut!”
They run down the walk and grab hold to me, the yellow dog bounding behind. After the greetings, Anita Silverstone and Norville Bryson go inside the large brick house and leave me and the triplets outside to ourselves.
“Hazel, Mac, you and Filbert come to the porch and let’s sit a spell and talk,” I say, walking toward the porch, expecting them to follow me, expecting to be accosted with stories of what they’ve been doing and how they’ve been getting on. But it’s like they don’t hear a thing.
Now that the excitement’s worn off, it seems the yellow dog’s got more of a draw with them three than their big sister.
“Filbert, have you read any books you want to tell me about?”
Filbert tosses a ball to Mac, over the head of the dog.
“Mac, don’t you want to tell me what you’ve been doing? Did these people get you a yo-yo? I know you left yours back at the wagon with Mister Abraham.”
Mac tosses the ball to the dog.
“Hazel, come talk to me.” I motion her over with my hand, but it seems that she’s turned every bit of
her attention to the dog.
“Filbert, guess where I’m going?”
Filbert don’t look my way.
“I’m going to go see Daddy,” I holler, but he acts like he don’t care.
I jump to my feet and run into the yard, stepping in the middle of their game. I snatch Hazel by the arm.
“Ouch! Chestnut, you’re hurting me!” she yells. “Leave me alone. I want to play.” She breaks free my hold and runs back to the dog.
“But don’t you care that I’m going to go and see Daddy?” I ask. Knowing Hazel like I do, I’m sure when she understands I’m really going to visit Daddy she’ll stop playing and pay attention.
“Listen, you three,” I say. “I want to talk to you. We haven’t seen each other in a long time. Come over here and sit down.”
Plopping down on the porch, I pat the step beside me with my hand.
“Chestnut, you ain’t our boss,” says Hazel.
“I’m not trying to be your boss. I just want to talk. Don’t you have something you want me to tell Daddy? Like you love him, or that you can’t wait to get back to the wagon, or that you miss him terribly?”
Filbert stops playing with the dog, ambles to the porch, and drops to the steps to sit.
“Filbert, you miss Daddy, don’t you?”
“Well sure I do, Chestnut, but …”
“But what?”
“Well, it’s just that I like it here too. I mean, these folks are nice, and, Chestnut, guess what?” His eyes that remind me so much of the ocean sparkle in the light of the sun. “They let us have all we want to eat!”
“Yeah,” hollers Mac, “and they bought us new clothes. They even said we could stay with them forever if we want. They said they got a nice school here with lots of young’uns our age.”
“And,” says Filbert, “they got a nice teacher and all the books we ever want to read. Books about friends, and horses, and—”
“And pirates!” yells Mac. “Don’t forget about the pirates!”
I can’t believe what I’m hearing. We’ve not been separated more than a week and a half and the triplets got a new home. They’ve done forgot about Daddy, and about Abraham, and the elixir, and—
“Hey, Chestnut!” Mac hollers. “You can tell Daddy I love him, but don’t tell him nothing else. I mean, don’t tell him I got new clothes, or a new house, or a dog or nothing about a new school, all right?”
“Yeah, me too,” says Filbert. “I mean, I miss Daddy and all, but well, it’s awfully nice here. I mean, it’s a nicer place than any place I ever been, and we don’t ever have to go to bed with our bellies growling, or dig for food in trash cans, or nothing.”
“But we’re family. You can’t just throw away family, even for food and fancy clothes.”
They don’t even look at me and I wonder if all the food they’ve had to eat has clogged up their minds as well as their hearts.
“There’s something else I want to tell you,” I say, catching Filbert’s eyes when I say it. “Mama’s coming today.”
Mac and Hazel stop their playing and turn to stare at me. Seems my words have stunned all three of them, and Filbert’s looking like he doesn’t understand a word I just said.
36
FORGETTING MAMA
Mama’s coming,” I say again.
They don’t move.
“That woman, Anita Silverstone, told me so. She said Mama’s coming on the afternoon train. Don’t you want to see Mama?”
Hazel looks at Mac and Mac looks at Filbert. It’s like the cat’s snatched all three of their tongues clean out of their mouths and can’t none of the three of them speak a word.
Filbert stares at the ground and what he says next comes close to worrying the life plumb out of me.
“Chestnut, I don’t really remember Mama. I mean, I remember we had a mama but not exactly what she was like.”
“You don’t remember our loving mama? Filbert, you know you remember Mama.”
“I don’t remember her neither,” Hazel says. “I mean, I remember that her hands were soft and that she laughed a lot, but not what she looks like.”
“You do, don’t you, Mac? You remember what she looks like, don’t you?”
Mac shakes his head then drops to his knees to pet the dog.
My heart’s broke into a million tiny slivers. I can’t believe them babies don’t remember Mama. Two years is a long time, yes, but not so long that you forget your mama for goodness sakes. They was just four, almost five, when Daddy run off with us, but looks to me like they ought to remember something.
“I just don’t know who any of you are anymore. You ain’t paid me no more attention than a bag of rocks since I come until right this second, and I had to practically beg you for that. You want to forget about Daddy and go to living with folk we don’t even know, and now, worst of all, you don’t remember your own mama. I can’t believe it. I just can’t …”
Burying my head in my hands, I want to bust out crying, but I can’t.
I won’t!
No way I’m going to let that Anita Silverstone, or Norville Bryson, or the triplets, or anybody for that matter see me cry!
I. Got. My. Pride!
Filbert jumps to his feet and the triplets go back to playing with the yellow dog, like our conversation never took place. I stare across the yard, and the more I think on it, the more I know without a doubt what I’ve got to do. I’ve got to put an end to all this madness and I’ve got to do it now. No matter what it costs me.
Stomping across the porch I pound on the door.
Anita Silverstone comes to the door in a rush. “Chestnut, is everything all right?”
“Yes, ma’am, but I’d like to go and see my daddy now.”
“What? Oh, all right. So, you’ve visited enough with your brothers and sister?”
She stretches her neck and looks across the yard to the triplets, running and playing with the yellow dog like I haven’t even been here and they’ve not heard one word spewed out of my mouth.
“Yes, ma’am,” I say, and I turn and walk back across the lawn to the car.
When we’re all in, I look back at the triplets, expecting them to wave and holler good-bye, but they don’t. Matter of fact they don’t even look my way—again. And my feelings is hurt clear through to the bone.
“Mrs. Silverstone?” I ask, still staring out the window at the triplets. “Could I please go back to Mrs. Wallace’s house before I visit my daddy?”
“Now? Before you see him?” she asks, turning in the seat to look at me.
“Yes, ma’am, please. There’s something I forgot to get when we left.”
“All right,” she says, looking at Norville Bryson. “But you won’t be able to take anything in with you when you see your daddy, you know.”
“Yes, ma’am. I understand, but there’s something I need. Something I have to have when I go to the jail.”
Norville Bryson looks at Anita Silverstone with questions on his face. She shrugs like she doesn’t have a clue what I’m talking about.
And she doesn’t. No one does. Only me, and the Good Lord Above know what I’m planning.
Norville Bryson turns the car around and drives all the way back to Mrs. Wallace’s house.
“Do you want me to come in with you?” Anita Silverstone asks.
“No. I’ll be right back.”
I run to the door and knock.
And I knock.
And I knock.
The trouble with old people is not their age, it’s that they’re slow. Slower than sorghum molasses in an ice storm, but, bless her heart, she’s the sweetest old lady I ever did meet in my whole entire life.
“Well, hello, dear! Back so soon? I barely knew you were gone,” she says, shuffling to the door and cracking the screen just enough for me to take hold and open it the rest of the way.
“Yes, ma’am. I mean, no, ma’am. I mean, I forgot something. I’ll just run upstairs and get it and then we’ll be on our way again.”
I jump the steps two at a time.
I run across the room to the bed and pull back the covers, shoving my hand up under the pillows and laying hold to my metal box. The money’s still there, every piece of it.
Slamming the lid, I pull the box to my chest and jump down the stairs faster than I went up. Mrs. Wallace is at the bottom, her light blue shawl draped loose around her shoulders, with Lollipop under one arm and her stick in her other.
I pat Lollipop on the head, give a quick scratch behind her ears, and lean over and kiss her between the eyes.
Mrs. Wallace smiles. “Get what you need, dear?”
“Yes, ma’am. Sorry to trouble you. I’ll be back soon,” I holler, running across the porch and back to the car. But I know better.
I won’t be back.
I’ll be in jail.
“What do you have there?” Norville Bryson asks, glancing over his shoulder as he drives.
Now, I’m not aiming to be rude and I’m not aiming to be snippy, but the way I see it my box is none of his business. So, trying the best I can not to be ugly, I say, “Just something I need,” in as polite a voice as I can muster.
In the mirror I see him raise his eyebrows at Anita Silverstone.
Seems like the sheriff’s office and county jail is a long, long ways away from Mrs. Wallace’s house, especially in the silence of that car. I’m happy though, because the way I’ve got it figured, I’ve got to do way too much thinking to be carrying on a conversation right now.
The sheriff’s office is just as I remember, but a different lady’s behind the desk asking folks to sit and wait their turn.
Anita Silverstone’s asking me to wait too. She points to a chair and says, “Take a seat, Chestnut. We’ll go to see your father in a moment. I need to take care of a few things first.”
I clutch my metal box; after all we’re in the sheriff’s office. Who knows how many thieves might be lingering around, waiting to steal it.
Anita Silverstone is gone for a long time, longer than I reckoned she would be. Watching folks come and go I wonder what’s become of my daddy. After sitting so long my legs go to sleep, I stand, walk over, and catch the eyes of the lady behind the desk.