A Song of Home

by Susie Finkbeinger

  “How would she do it?” I asked.

  “Well, she’d come on out with her arms held down at her sides. Smokey’d stand still as a statue, her eyes shut and her mouth moving.”

  “What was she saying?”

  “Nobody knew,” he answered. “Not even Jed Bozell ever knew that. It was some kind of ancient spell only she could recite. Everybody’d get real quiet, hoping to hear what it was she said, but they never did. She never made a sound, fast as her lips were moving. Never even made a whisper. Then, after she’d recited her silent spell, she’d look up, gray eyes wide as could be. That was when it happened.”

  “What?”

  “Why, that was when she’d start disappearing,” he said. “First, the smoke coming off her was gray. It’d curl up and get carried off by the breeze.”

  “Did it smell like a fire?”

  “Nah.” Daddy looked into my eyes. “Smelled just like roses, if I remember right. The gray smoke turned to white. By the time all the white burned off there was nothing left of her but those gray shoes she’d had on her feet. For some reason or another, she never could seem to keep them on when she disappeared.”

  “Why not?”

  “No idea,” he said. “Maybe they were just too heavy.”

  “When she reappeared did she fall right back into them?” I asked.

  “Nope.”

  I watched Daddy’s face. There was sadness in his eyes, but a tiny spark was there too.

  “Daddy,” I said. “She did reappear, didn’t she?”

  “Now, I know that all the good magicians can make a rabbit disappear in a box and then reappear in his top hat. Thing was, Jed was no magician. And Smokey was no reappearing lady.” Daddy licked his lips. “Only thing Smokey could do was disappear. That and put up a sideshow tent faster than you could say Timbuktu. Not that she’d lacked trying. She’d worked at it for years, trying to learn how to reappear. It was just part of the spell she’d never figured out.”

  “How would Jed Bozell get her back?” I bit at my lip, hoping that story wouldn’t end up making me cry. “He got her back, didn’t he?”

  “Always did, darlin’. Always did.”

  “How?”

  “I’ll tell ya,” Daddy said. “See, every time Smokey disappeared she’d wind up coming to somewhere else a day or two later. Not even she knew where she’d find herself. Sometimes she’d disappear in Chicago and wake up in Texarkana. Other times she’d disappear in Delaware and roll over on a bed in London, England. Jed never did know where that lady’d end up. But he always—every single time—went after her. He always brought her home.”

  “What if she wound up somewhere he couldn’t get to?”

  “He always found a way, darlin’,” Daddy said. “Didn’t matter if she was one hour away or all the way in the middle of Siberia, Jed would find a way to get to her. He’d climb mountains and swim across oceans if he had to. He’d make a way to get Smokey.”

  “Why?” I asked.

  “Because he loved her.” Daddy’s eyes were soft around the edges when he said it and I was scared he might start crying. “After a while, she stopped doing the disappearing trick. She quit it. No matter how hard and loud the crowds hollered for it, she’d refuse. She’d just stay in the tent where her things were kept. And she was happy to stay.”

  “She was?”

  “Course she was. She’d learned that when you got somebody that loves you, staying is better than leaving.”

  I waited, not saying anything just in case there was more to the story. But Daddy didn’t say anything else. Just used a rough, calloused finger to push a strand or two of hair off my forehead.

  “Daddy,” I said.

  “Yeah?”

  “Mama got a letter. Before Easter.” I swallowed before going on. “She wouldn’t let me see it. Wouldn’t tell me who it was from.”

  “That so?”

  I nodded. “I’m not trying to tattle.”

  “I know it.”

  “Do you think it was from him?” I hoped he would know I meant Abe Campbell.

  “I don’t know, darlin’.”

  “She had it in her sweater,” I said. “The gray one.”

  “You best get back to sleep, darlin’. Leave this to me, all right?”

  “Are you mad at me?” I asked. “For telling?”

  “No, darlin’. Not even a little.”

  I closed my eyes but didn’t fall asleep for a long time. Daddy stayed right there beside me, sitting on the edge of my bed. I didn’t move for fear he was watching me and would catch me faking that I was sleeping.

  I imagined Jed Bozell crossing deserts and rivers and snow-covered fields to get Smokey. When I pictured his face he looked an awful lot like Daddy.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  I found Mama still in her bed. As far as I could tell she hadn’t moved even an inch since lunchtime when I’d last checked on her. She was on her side and I could see in the mirror that she felt of her belly like she was hoping to find something there.

  She didn’t turn toward me when I said her name.

  “You can come sit with me a minute,” she said, her voice more a whisper than anything.

  I sat at the end of the bed. Neither of us said anything, but that seemed all right just then.

  Mama had a quilt covering her up to her waist. I recognized it as one we’d brought with us from Red River. Patchwork of every color. It was what I’d always imagined Joseph of the Old Testament’s coat to look like.

  Meemaw’d made it of scraps from this and that. I thought all the stitching must’ve made her crooked fingers sore. But a little pain had never stopped Meemaw from doing what she wanted to. Daddy’d said more than a couple times that Meemaw was the most stubborn soul he’d ever encountered. I’d never doubted that for a minute.

  It’d always been my favorite quilt. All those different colors and patterns gave me plenty to look at when Mama wrapped me up in it or when she asked me to fold it and put it away. More than a few of the patches had faded from washings and hours hanging to dry in the sun.

  Beanie never had liked it, I remembered that. She’d said it was too itchy on her skin and I wondered if it was on account of all the stitches Meemaw’d had to make to piece together the various patches and squares.

  Sitting on that quilt, Mama’s toes wiggling right next to my leg, I couldn’t help but smile, thinking of my sister.

  Beanie Jean sure had been a stinker. And I missed her like the dickens.

  It didn’t seem possible that a year and a day could have rushed by so fast since I’d last seen her, standing between me and the duster like she could save me from it.

  I blinked. Let myself think back to sitting beside her on the porch back in Red River, telling her the story of Hansel and Gretel for the hundredth time. She’d been pretending to sleep so I’d leave her alone for a little bit. I’d covered her hand with my own for less than a minute. And I’d told her I loved her.

  She’d known. I was sure of it.

  Even with all the things Beanie hadn’t understood, she had known what love was.

  Aunt Carrie took over Mama’s kitchen. She cleaned up the dishes from breakfast and the noon meal before she got a good stew heating up on the stovetop. Soon the whole house smelled of salty beef and starchy potatoes. The way Ray’s mouth watered, I would’ve thought he’d been starving to death for the last year or so. She put me to work cutting circles into the biscuit dough she’d rolled out onto the countertop.

  “You didn’t have to do that,” Mama said, out of bed for the first time that day. She leaned one hip into the counter and kept her hands wrapped around her tummy. “We could have managed.”

  “Oh, it’s no trouble,” Aunt Carrie said. “I made the stew earlier today. All I have to do is get it nice and hot. It seems I’m always making far too much of it for Gus and me to eat by ourselves.”

  “Thank you,” Mama said. “Will you stay and eat with us?”

  “Would you like me to?”<
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  Mama nodded and I was glad. There didn’t seem to be anybody that could help us through the day so well as Aunt Carrie.

  “I’ll get Mr. Seegert,” Ray said, peeking his head into the kitchen. “If you want me to.”

  “Yes, please,” Aunt Carrie said. “Be sure to have him change into clean clothes, too, if you would.”

  Ray nodded before turning and running out the back door, jumping off the porch, and making his way across the yard to the woods.

  “We could have called him,” Mama said, turning to watch Ray out the kitchen window.

  “I don’t think Ray minds getting him.” Aunt Carrie smiled. “It will do him some good, anyway. Boys are always moving, aren’t they?”

  “I guess so,” Mama said. “I haven’t been around many boys.”

  “The way you’re carrying,” Aunt Carrie said, nodding at Mama’s belly. “I’d guess you’ll have another running around this house soon enough.”

  Mama looked down at her stomach. “I carried low with Violet, too,” she said.

  I turned, knowing the scowl that’d set on my face.

  “She never liked that name,” I said. “Beanie hated it when you called her that.”

  Mama gave me a look so cold I got the chills.

  Good thing for me Aunt Carrie was there in the kitchen with us. Otherwise, Mama might have knocked me off my feet for sassing her the way I’d done.

  Instead, Mama just told me I’d better mind my manners around my betters and told me to set the table. I knew I’d best not say a word back to her even if I wasn’t done with the biscuits. Besides, I was right embarrassed to have her talk to me so harsh with Aunt Carrie standing right there.

  I just did as she said, not because I was obedient, but because I was afraid.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  The next morning we went about getting our own breakfast, seeing as Mama was staying put in bed. I got the oatmeal cooking and Ray set the table. Daddy started brewing up his coffee before going in to check on Mama. When he opened the bedroom door, though, she just hollered for him to get out.

  She didn’t have to tell him twice. He shut the door, shaking his head. But he didn’t walk away, not at first. He just stood, his hand on the doorknob like he was fixing to go back in. What he would’ve done, I didn’t know.

  “Do unto others as you’d like them to do unto you,” Meemaw would’ve said. “That’s in the Good Book, you know. How you wanna be treated is how you best do to everybody else. Even if they gone and hurt you. You still gotta do it. Praise Jesus.”

  Had I been upset, I’d have wanted somebody to use a soft hanky to wipe the tears out from under my eyes. I’d have hoped that somebody would sit on the edge of my bed saying soft words to me, soothing me. Maybe that somebody would read a poem to me or sing a song. She’d bring me a cup of warm milk with a little chocolate stirred in if she had any.

  Something told me, though, that Mama would’ve just told me to leave her be if I tried even one of those things.

  I spooned out a couple bowls of oats for Ray and me to eat real quick before we left for school.

  I wasn’t inclined to go home right after school, so I climbed up the old stairs to Opal’s apartment and knocked on the door. She’d never once turned me away and I didn’t imagine she was like to that day either.

  But she didn’t come to the door. She didn’t even call out “Just a minute” or ask who was there. Figuring maybe she hadn’t heard me, I knocked harder so it stung my knuckles more. Still she didn’t answer.

  “Opal?” I called out, feeling the doorknob to see if it was unlocked. “It’s me, Pearl.”

  The knob didn’t budge. That was when I knew for sure she wasn’t home. Most folks in Bliss left their doors unlocked on account everybody knew everybody and had no reason to mistrust them. Opal’d told me she’d never get used to that.

  Seemed living in a big city like Detroit made it so folks didn’t trust each other so easy.

  I took my sweet time going back down the steps and hopped off the last one to the pavement. For a good minute or two I stood and watched the people walking up and down the street, going in and out of the stores or stopping to chat it up a minute or two with somebody they met along the way.

  Two ladies stood right outside Wheeler’s store, just a package or two under their arms that I imagined to be fixings for supper. One of them had sad-looking eyes, the kind that told more than her mouth ever could. The other put a hand on the sad lady’s shoulder. She made her face soft and moved her mouth around words I imagined to be full of pity and comfort.

  I had to turn away from them and walk the other way down the street. Seeing the kindness made me sad on Mama’s behalf. Back in Red River, she’d been the one with soft eyes and comforting words.

  It sure didn’t seem all that long ago.

  I ended up walking down the winding road toward the library. Even for as nice a day as it was, there wasn’t anybody out and about down that street working on their yards or sipping an iced tea on their porch. That was fine by me.

  It seemed all the sudden my eyes had gotten watery, and no matter how hard I clamped on the knot in my throat I couldn’t keep the sadness pushed down anymore. It wasn’t a noisy cry and it wasn’t too messy, either. Still, it lasted longer than I wanted it to. I stopped where I was, right outside the library, and rubbed at my eyes with my knuckles, hoping nobody’d seen me.

  That was when I heard the clip-clop of hard-soled shoes on the walk. Looking up, I saw Mrs. Trask coming my way. For how stoop-backed she was, she sure moved quick.

  “Are you hurt?” she asked when she was just a couple feet from me. “What ever is the matter, child?”

  I didn’t know what to say, so I just shrugged and tried my best at a smile. From the way her eyes got soft, I knew she didn’t buy it.

  “Come along,” she said, reaching out and hooking her fingers over my shoulder, pulling me to her side. “Let’s get you inside. I seem to have left my hanky on my desk.”

  I let her take my arm as we walked to the library and up the steps to the door. As fast as she’d come to me, I figured she’d worn herself out.

  “I believe I need to sit down,” Mrs. Trask told me once we’d gotten beyond the big wood doors. “Would you be a dear and help me to my chair?”

  I told her that would be fine and did as she asked.

  She held my hands real tight as she lowered her backside into the chair. I couldn’t tell if the creaking was her knees or the chair taking on her weight. I knew it wouldn’t have been proper to ask.

  “I was dusting the shelf over by the window,” she said. “When I saw you crying, I came as fast as I could.”

  “You didn’t have to do that, ma’am,” I told her, letting her keep hold of my right hand.

  “Oh, I know that, my dear.” She smiled up at me.

  “Then why did you?”

  “I have long been of the opinion that when one sees someone in need, one goes to them,” she said. “If one sees a friend crying, one goes as swiftly as is possible.”

  She’d called me a friend. I opened my mouth and tried to tell her even a little bit of what’d been troubling me. Seemed, though, I couldn’t figure out where to start. If I’d told her about one thing I’d have to spill the beans about all of it. Sorrow never did come in small bits. Instead, it arrived as a mass of sadnesses all stuck together.

  I closed my mouth. Mrs. Trask wasn’t one to pry and she wasn’t the kind to impose. She wouldn’t force me to say a thing. Mrs. Trask was a lady, and a kind one at that.

  “Whatever it is,” she said, patting my hand. “It shall be made right, my dear.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” I answered.

  Goodness, did I ever hope she was right.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  I took longer than I should’ve, walking home from the library. I hoped maybe Mama’d gotten to feeling better and that she’d be up and getting supper together for us. Even then, I wasn’t sure which Mama she’d be.
The way her moods went up and down, I never could know from one minute to the next.

  When I finally turned on the corner of the main street and Magnolia, I thought real hard about just walking round back and heading straight through the woods to Aunt Carrie’s house. No matter the day of the week or the kind of weather, Aunt Carrie was the same. Kind, smiling, and warm.

  For about the thousandth time I wished Aunt Carrie was my mama. And for the thousandth time I felt guilty all the way to my bones for thinking such a thing.

  “Hey, Pearl,” a voice I knew belonged to Bert called out to me. “Over here.”

  Turning, I saw him and Ray standing inside the pigeon coop, looking out at me through the chicken wire–covered window.

  “Come on,” Ray hollered.

  Seeing as how I didn’t want to go home just yet, they didn’t have to ask me a second time.

  “You two look like you went and got locked up,” I said, crossing the street and walking directly to them. “Sassy get out and trap you boys in there?”

  “Nah, she’s still in here,” Ray said. “Bert thought she was a little lonesome.”

  “Probably why she’s always running away is ’cause she’s in here by herself all the time,” Bert said. “She just needs a little company.”

  “Come in,” Ray said. “There’s room.”

  The boys shifted positions in the coop so I could join them. Sure enough, that bird was still in there, perched on the ledge just above Bert’s head. Her feathers were puffed out and her head pulled in tight to her chest. I wondered if she really was sleeping or just pretending with hopes that those boys might leave her be.

  “You wanna know a story one of the boys told us today?” Bert asked. “Go on, Ray. Tell her.”

  “Nah.” Ray rubbed at the back of his neck and looked at the ground. “It’d just give her bad dreams is all.”