“She sure likes chocolate, huh?” Jaybird said.
“Yeah,” Randall said. He watched her eat the candy, and thought about how she used to bake. Cupcakes and cookies and pies. And always with chocolate in them. One time she made a giant chocolate chip cookie for all the children in Vacation Bible School. But then she started making mistakes. Like leaving out the flour or putting in a dozen eggs instead of two. When she left cupcakes in the oven so long they caught on fire, Mr. Avery had to make her stop baking. She got so mad she didn’t say one word for four whole days. But then Mr. Avery brought home Hershey bars with almonds and Queenie stopped being mad.
“Come on, Queenie,” Randall said. “We got to get home before dark.”
“Where’s Lavonia?” Queenie said.
Randall felt his face grow hot. “Come on, Queenie.”
“Where’s Lavonia?” Queenie repeated.
“Who’s Lavonia?” Jaybird said.
Randall shrugged. “Who knows? Probably somebody from a long time ago.”
“You know Lavonia,” Queenie said to Randall. “That one with the hat.”
Randall tried to make his face look relaxed, but he could feel a little twitch by his right eye.
“Oh, that Lavonia,” he said. “She’s gone.”
“Who’s Lavonia?” Althea said.
“This lady that used to live around here,” Randall said. “But she moved away.”
“I saw her,” Queenie said.
“Naw,” Randall said. “You didn’t see her. She’s gone.”
“I saw her and that box,” Queenie said.
“What box?” Althea said. She crumpled up a candy wrapper and licked each finger with loud smacking noises.
They all stood there, watching Queenie. Randall tried to think of something to say to make Queenie stop talking about Lavonia.
But before he could think of anything, Queenie shuffled off down the sidewalk, clutching her purse with both hands.
On the way home from Thomas and Sons Insurance Agency, Randall tried to keep talking. About the stifling hot weather. About the kittens that had been born under T.J.’s porch. About the colored pencils he was saving his money for. About anything he could think of to keep Jaybird and Althea from asking about Lavonia.
But it didn’t work.
“Who’s that Lavonia lady Queenie was talking about?” Jaybird said.
Randall shrugged. “Aw, just some lady that used to live near here.”
“Where’d she go?”
“I think she moved in with some of her kin out there off Highway 14,” Randall said.
“I wonder why Queenie was talking about her.”
“Aw, you know Queenie,” Randall said. “She talks crazy.”
“Yeah,” Jaybird said.
Randall was glad when Jaybird stopped talking about Lavonia. He need to concentrate on the thought that kept popping into his head. He had been trying to push it away, but now he let it settle down and sit there for a spell. The thought was this: I’ve got to do something about Moses.
After a while it seemed like just thinking about doing something about Moses let in a little tiny spark of feeling better. But the problem was, what could he do about Moses? And if he thought of something to do, then when should he do it? And if he thought of when to do it, then how should he do it?
It seemed like every time one question popped up, along came another one. By the time Randall got home, all those questions were buzzing around inside his head like flies in a barnyard. And no matter how many times he tried to shoo them away, they just kept coming back.
But the very next day something happened that made Randall stop thinking and start doing.
13
“I’m starting to worry, Randall,” Mr. Avery said.
But the look in his eyes said more than “worry.” The look said “scared.” The look made Randall feel scared, too.
“I don’t know where she could be,” Mr. Avery said. “She’s never gone very far. I’ve always been able to find her.” He clutched his gnarled fingers together. “But this time I’m worried she may have gone off too far.”
“I bet she went to see those kittens again,” Randall said.
Mr. Avery shook his head. “I looked there.”
“Oh.”
“She didn’t even take her purse.” Mr. Avery clutched Queenie’s big red purse in his lap. Queenie’s favorite soap opera blared from the TV.
“What about the church?” Randall said. “I bet she went there.”
“Been there.” Mr. Avery shook his head again. “I’m just going to have to call the police. There’s no telling where she is. She was talking all crazy this morning.”
Inside, Randall was thinking about how Queenie talked crazy most all the time, but he didn’t say it.
“What was she talking about?” he said.
Mr. Avery stroked Queenie’s purse. “Aw, you know, going on and on about Lavonia Shirley.”
Randall felt his heart beat a little faster. “Lavonia Shirley?”
“Yeah, you remember that woman that used to live over there on Pritchard Street?”
“Wonder why she’d be talking about her.”
“Who knows,” Mr. Avery lifted his sad eyes up to look at Randall. “I guess I’ll never figure out what’s going on in that head of hers.”
Randall’s mind was whirling.
“Then maybe she went over to Pritchard Street,” he said.
Mr. Avery’s head shot up. “That’s it!” He tossed Queenie’s purse onto the couch and stood up. “Why didn’t I think of that?” he said. “I bet you anything you’re right.”
Mr. Avery took his beat-up baseball cap off the coffee table and placed it over his scraggly hair. “I got to go,” he said.
“Can I go, too?”
Mr. Avery opened the front door and said, “Sure,” as he started up the basement steps.
“Mr. Avery,” Randall called after him.
Mr. Avery stopped and turned back to look at Randall.
“I wouldn’t ever tell anybody about Queenie wandering off, okay?” Randall said.
Mr. Avery nodded. “You’re a good boy, Randall,” he said.
When Queenie saw them, she grinned and waved.
“Hey, mister,” she called out.
Randall had never seen Mr. Avery move so fast. By the time they caught up to Queenie, he was breathing loud and wheezy. One hand clutched his heart, and Randall thought for sure something terrible was about to happen.
Mr. Avery hugged Queenie, and she said, “I have to get my hair done. I’m late.”
“For crying out loud, Queenie,” Mr. Avery said. “You trying to scare me into the grave?”
Queenie’s grin dropped. “Where’s my purse?”
“At home,” Mr. Avery said. “Let’s go get it.”
“Lavonia better go get that box,” Queenie said. “Don’t you think so, Monroe?” She cocked her head at Randall.
Randall shrugged. “I don’t know, Queenie.”
“Lavonia don’t live out here no more,” Mr. Avery said. He took Queenie’s hand and coaxed her to start walking. “She took all them young-uns of hers and moved way out on Forest Avenue. Shoot, she may not even live in Foley anymore.”
Queenie nodded so hard her wispy hair bounced on top of her head. “She does.”
Mr. Avery looked at Randall and rolled his eyes. “Okay, Queenie,” he said. “Let’s go home and get your purse.”
“My purse!” Queenie hollered. Then she took off so fast Mr. Avery and Randall had to scurry to keep up with her.
That night after supper, Randall got out his sketchbook. He turned to a blank page and began to draw. First he drew a box. Next he drew a church steeple, a fist, a straw hat, and a purse.
Then he used a black marker to draw a line from one object to the next, until they were all connected. He sat back and looked at the drawing. It looked just like a web. A giant spiderweb with all that stuff tangled up inside it. But something was missing. Some
thing that Randall knew was important to the web.
He picked up his pencil and drew himself—right in the middle of the spiderweb.
Then he tore the page out, folded it up, and pushed it way down under his socks with the other drawings.
He turned out the lights and said his prayers. For the umpteenth time, he asked for grits and gumption.
“I need it for sure by tomorrow,” he whispered into the darkness of his bedroom. “’Cause tomorrow I’m doing something to fix this mess.”
14
In the far corner of the Mackeys’ garage, Randall’s father had an office. At least, he called it an office. Actually, the only thing there was a teetering card table piled with moldy cardboard boxes bulging with papers. Under the card table was a metal file cabinet.
When Randall was little, he used to look through the file cabinet. It was crammed with letters, old calendars, Christmas cards, and boring magazines with titles like Insurance Today.
Randall was pretty sure he remembered something else that used to be in the file cabinet. A map of Foley.
He looked behind him to make sure his mother was still inside. Then he stepped over paint cans and garden tools and made his way to his father’s office. He pushed a cracked flowerpot out of the way and opened the file cabinet.
He searched through the jumble of papers in the drawer. Sure enough, he found it. “Your complimentary map of Foley, South Carolina, from your friends at Nelson’s Brake and Tire Company.”
Randall opened the map and smoothed it out on the garage floor. He figured he could probably find his way around the heart of Foley blindfolded. But he wasn’t too sure about some of the narrow country roads that forked off the main streets and headed on out to the red-dirt fields outside of town.
Randall squinted down at the map, running his finger along the roads. Suddenly he jabbed a finger at the map. There it was. Forest Avenue. Where Lavonia Shirley had moved with all those young-uns.
Randall used his finger to trace the route from Forest Avenue, down, over, down some more, until he ended up at the spot on Woodmont Street where his own house was. How far was that, he wondered. It didn’t look too far on the map, but Randall had a feeling it was farther than he had ever been by himself before. Could he ride his bike there? Maybe. But wouldn’t he have to tell his mother? And wouldn’t she want to know why in the world he wanted to go clear out to Forest Avenue? Of course she would.
What if he didn’t tell his mother? What if he just went? Randall had never done anything like that before. Just the thought of it made him squirm.
Nope. He’d never get away with it. First off, his mother would want to know where he’d been and why he was gone so long. All those things that mothers want to know. And if, by some miracle, that didn’t happen, surely nosy ole Althea would find out somehow, like she found out every little thing that happened in Foley.
Randall folded the map up and stuffed it into his shirt pocket. He was going to have to think about this one for a while.
Preacher Ron nodded toward Inez Dawson. “Inez, you want to give us the Sunday school report?”
Inez stood up and faced the congregation. She looked down at her clipboard and cleared her throat.
“There were forty-two children in Sunday school last week,” she said, pausing while a few people clapped. “However,” she continued, “there were only thirty-one Bibles brought to Sunday school last week.” She lowered her head and peered over her glasses at some of the children scattered around the room.
Then she reminded everyone about junior choir practice and sat down.
Randall used a blue colored pencil to fill in the eyes of the little boys and girls on the cover of the church bulletin. The curly-headed children laughed and danced in a field of daisies. A fluffy baby lamb trailed along behind them.
Mickey Ross gave the church treasurer’s report. $22.40 collected in Sunday school. $632.48 collected in tithes and offerings.
Randall colored the center of each daisy bright yellow. Church seemed to get longer every week. And without Jaybird, it wasn’t even fun going to the Fellowship Hall afterward. Usually he just grabbed a cupcake and went out back to watch the other kids play tag.
“And now please join me in singing hymn number 38, ‘Standing on the Solid Rock,’” Preacher Ron said.
Randall stood up and rested the hymnal on the back of the pew in front of him. He moved his mouth, pretending to sing. His head was too littered up with other stuff to be thinking about singing.
If he didn’t do something soon, Queenie was going to tell somebody about Lavonia Shirley and the box. Maybe nobody would believe her, since she talked so crazy. But maybe somebody would. And maybe that somebody would tell somebody, and on and on the news would go, spreading through Foley like wildfire. And everyone would know Queenie had been wandering at night, and would make Mr. Avery send her away.
And even if that didn’t happen, the foster care folks from up in Spartanburg were liable to come to Foley and take Moses away because of all the fussing and fighting going on. Leastways, that’s what everybody was gossiping about.
There was no doubt about it. He couldn’t wait any longer. He had to talk to Lavonia Shirley and tell her to come get her baby. That’s all there was to it. But how?
Then, as if his thoughts had made their way through all that hymn singing and floated skyward, a miracle happened. Randall looked out the window of the Rock of Ages Baptist Church and there was Lavonia Shirley, sitting on the curb in her floppy straw hat.
Randall felt like somebody had flipped the switch of the world to “off.” Everything stopped. The singing all around him. His father’s feet shuffling on the wooden floor. The old man coughing in the back of the church. Seemed like even his own heartbeat had stopped.
Then he felt himself lean toward his mother. Heard himself whisper, “I’ll be right back.”
The next thing he knew, he was outside squinting in the bright sun. Organ music drifted out of the windows and swirled around in the still summer air.
Randall looked across the street. The curb was empty. Lavonia was gone.
He shielded his eyes from the glaring sun and searched the empty lot across from the church. Nothing. He raced to the corner and around the Elks Lodge. Then he spotted her, hurrying up the sidewalk away from town. She hiked her flowered skirt up above her knees with one hand and clutched her straw hat with the other.
Randall ran after her. The slap of his sneakers echoed down the empty street. Lavonia glanced over her shoulder, walking faster. Just as Randall was about to catch up to her, she whirled around to face him.
“What you want?” she said, glaring at Randall. Her voice was hoarse and raspy. She kept one hand on her hat.
Randall was surprised how young she looked. Her bushy black hair seemed to struggle to escape from under the hat. Big looped earrings dangled to her shoulders and glistened in the sun. Her skin was dark and smooth, and her eyes were a peculiar color. Almost gold.
Now that Randall had caught up to her, he felt foolish. He must have been crazy to run after her like this.
He looked down at the sidewalk, wishing the words he should say to her would be written there.
She took her hand off her hat and peered down at Randall. “I said, what do you want?”
“I know you’re the one who left Moses at the church.” Randall kept his eyes down, afraid to look up at Lavonia.
She let out a small breath, like a sigh, and was silent.
Randall looked up. She was studying him through narrowed eyes. She put her hands on her waist. Her arms were long and thin. Her sharp, pointy elbows formed perfect “V”s.
“I don’t know Moses,” she said in that raspy voice.
“He’s a baby,” Randall said. “The baby in the box.”
Lavonia’s arms dropped limply to her sides, and her shoulders drooped slightly, but she kept her gaze on Randall. He wondered if she was thinking about lying to him. Maybe she would say it wasn’t her. That he mus
t have her mixed up with somebody else.
“You’re right,” she said. “It was me.”
“Oh.” Randall’s mind went blank. What was he supposed to say? Why had he done this, anyway?
“What do you want from me?” Lavonia said. Her voice had a sadness to it that made Randall feel bad. He wished he could turn around and go home. But he couldn’t. Not now. The cat was already out of the bag. He couldn’t put it back.
“Everybody’s fighting over him,” Randall said.
Lavonia paused for a minute. She kept those gold-colored eyes of hers on him, and he felt himself blush.
“The whole town is all stirred up and taking sides,” he said. “Some folks think Miss Frieda ought to take care of him, and some folks think Mrs. Charlotte Jennings ought to. And now the Gilleys don’t even come to church anymore.” He paused for a minute, but when he saw she wasn’t going to say anything, he went on, “Queenie Avery saw you, too. And she keeps talking about you and she’s even gone looking for you, and Mr. Avery is scared somebody will put her away in a home. And those foster care people up in Spartanburg are going to come and take Moses away.”
There. What else could he say?
Randall studied Lavonia’s face. Slowly, slowly, slowly, it softened. She lifted her head slightly and gazed up at the sky. Then she looked at Randall again and said, “His name ain’t Moses.”
“Oh.”
“His name is Nathan.”
“Nathan?”
Lavonia nodded. She took her straw hat off. Her wild hair sprang up high on top of her head. Then she pulled her skirt up over her knees and sat down right there on the sidewalk.
Randall sat across from her, waiting.
She shook her head slowly. “I just didn’t think I could take care of another baby,” she said.
Randall waited.
“Every day I’d open my eyes and feel such a dark heavy thing over me,” she went on. “And all my kids needing me. Just needing me all the time.”
She fingered the brim of her hat. She had rings on every finger. Rings with colored stones and rings with tiny pearls and plain silver rings.
Taking Care of Moses Page 6