Then I heard a woman yell. “Stop it! Leave me be!”
There wasn’t a single person on the street. Turning this way and that, I tried to see who had yelled. Nobody was in sight.
The woman cried out again, and someone yelled a cuss at her. I realized the sounds were coming from the alley behind Mr. Smalley’s store.
Peeking through the window, I made sure Mama wasn’t stepping out just then. She stood, facing Mr. Smalley with her hand to her chest. I figured she’d be there awhile.
I walked around the side of the store, in the direction of the voices I heard hissing at one another. Stepping toe-to-heel like I read the Indians did back a long time ago, I snuck, trying not to make any sound at all. Daddy’s Indian book had said walking like that helped them sneak up on their prey. That must have only worked for them walking in bare feet because, hard as I tried, the grit under the soles of my shoes kept grinding.
I pushed the shoes off and carried them, my toes gliding across the cool dirt.
Careful that I wouldn’t be seen, I spied around the corner with just one eye and looked into the alley.
Eddie and Winnie stood in the alley, face-to-face. Neither of them seemed happy. Her face was set hard like when she faced Pastor. His was the same as when I’d seen him at the rabbit drive. I didn’t like that look on him one bit.
He pushed her against the brick wall and kept his hand on her chest, holding her still.
“Be quiet,” he grumbled in her face. “You best not say a word to nobody.”
“No, I ain’t gonna be quiet,” she said back. She pushed at his hand and wiggled to get free. “I want you to leave her alone.”
“She’s got to know.” Eddie turned his head the opposite way from me and spit his plug of tobacco out. “Ain’t that why I come all the way here? So you’d get her?”
“You just come here to get revenge. That’s all.” She slapped at his hand again. “You wouldn’t never come to help me. I’m not stupid.”
He lowered his hand, but didn’t step away from her. “I come here to help you.”
Winnie said a word that Mama would have called barnyard talk. “You didn’t come for nobody but yourself. And I’m gonna tell them about you.”
“You ain’t gonna do nothing, Winnie. You hear?” Eddie yelled. “You’re gonna keep your mouth shut, or I’ll shut it for you.”
“I ain’t scared of you.” She snarled at him. “I’m gonna tell them who you are. Just see if I don’t.”
Eddie put his hands on her, struggling to pin her back to the wall. He punched her right in the mouth, making her head hit the brick behind her. She sputtered and spit blood. He held her arms down so she couldn’t touch her lips, check her teeth, wipe the blood. He growled like a wolf, baring his teeth at her.
Winnie had stopped fighting and let him hold her against the wall. She did sob and turn her head to one side. The blood streamed from her mouth.
“I never did know what my brother seen in you. You dirty little whore.” He got so close to her face that his nose nearly touched her cheek. “All he did was write about how he got some no-count girl in trouble.”
“We were gonna get married,” Winnie said, thick and mumbling through the blood and spit and already-swelling lips.
“He wasn’t never gonna do that.” Eddie laughed at her, pushing her harder against the wall. “He never would’ve.”
“He said he loved me,” she whimpered.
“You’re stupid.” Eddie’s voice gave me the chills and made my stomach turn. “My brother never loved nobody.”
“He did love me,” Winnie cried. It was like she was begging for it to be true.
“Nope. He never did. Even told me so much in one of his letters.” Eddie turned and spit again. “He never loved nobody. Not even our mother. He came out wanting to hurt anybody he could. And he done it, too. He hurt everybody.”
Eddie shoved her again, moving his arm up across her throat so hard she yelped and gasped for breath.
“I’m just like him. You hear?” Eddie said. “And I’m gonna do just like he done.”
“You ain’t like him,” Winnie said, choking. “It ain’t too late for you. Just leave. Go back to Tennessee. Nobody’s got hurt yet.”
“You think so, huh?” He eased up on her.
“Remember that girl? The one you found? You helped her.” She got one of her hands loose and used her sleeve to wipe under her bottom lip. The fabric soaked up the red. “You didn’t have to help her. You knew who she is, but you saved her anyhow.”
“That ain’t the whole story.” He turned his head toward me, but kept his eyes on Winnie. “Y’all don’t know nothing but what I want y’all to.”
“What happened?”
“I ain’t telling you.” He wrinkled his nose and shook when he breathed in and out. “I can’t trust you, can I?”
“You can. I promise.”
“But you was gonna tell everybody about me, weren’t you?”
“No,” she said, shaking her head. “I won’t do that. You were right. I’m on your side, Eddie.”
“Good. ’Cause if you tell anybody a single thing about me, I will kill you.” He grabbed a handful of her hair and pulled it hard, forcing her to look in his face. “I will.”
He punched her once more, and she fell to the ground.
I rushed back to the bench and waited for Mama to get done in the store. I shoved my feet into my shoes and tried to imagine I’d not seen anything. When I closed my eyes, though, all I could see was Winnie’s bloody face and her falling to the ground.
When Mama opened the door to the shop and called me in, I held my hands together behind my back so she wouldn’t see them shaking.
“You okay, Pearl?” Mr. Smalley asked. “You look like you seen a ghost.”
“Yes, sir. I’m all right,” I answered, pushing a smile on my face and holding it there.
“What’s wrong, darlin’?” Mama felt of my forehead. “You aren’t getting sick, are you?”
“Nothing’s wrong, Mama.” I made the smile bigger. “I’m just excited for Christmas.”
I lied because Eddie’s threat to Winnie was for me, too. That I knew clear as day.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
It was the afternoon before Christmas, and Meemaw was still feeling lousy. She wouldn’t hear about Mama calling a doctor, though. When Mama asked, Meemaw just waved her off from where she still lay in her bed.
“All a doctor’s going to say is that I’m old and nothing can be done.” Meemaw coughed. “He’ll tell you I’m dying of old age and then take your five dollars for his troubles.”
“Mother, don’t be so ornery,” Mama said.
“I’m old. That’s all I’ve got left to do.”
“Well, you rest. I have faith this will pass,” Mama said, closing Meemaw’s door.
Beanie and I stood in the doorway of our bedroom. We heard every word between Mama and Meemaw. I could about feel Beanie’s heart breaking. She leaned against the frame of the door to brace herself, still weak from the night she got hurt. I looked at her face, still colored yellow and blue and purple and pink from the beating she’d taken.
Tears streamed from her eyes. “I don’t want Meemaw to die.”
“She didn’t mean it,” I whispered. “She’s not dying. Just sick is all.”
Beanie steadied herself against the wall and made it to the steps. I followed her, sure she would tumble down the stairs. Grabbing her arm, I helped her. Between me and the banister, she made it downstairs for the first time since the attack.
Mama stood in the living room, arms crossed and looking out the big front window.
“Mama,” Beanie said.
Mama turned and, seeing Beanie’s face, rushed toward us, grabbing hold of both of us.
“She’s going to be just fine,” she said. “I’ll ask Daddy to call for a doctor.”
“Meemaw don’t want one,” Beanie cried.
“It doesn’t matter. We’ll get her one, anyhow.” Mama
used one hand to push Beanie’s wild hair off her face. “She isn’t going to die. Not just yet, at least.”
“She is,” Beanie said, thick spit stretching into strings between her lips. “And she’s gonna go take care of Baby Rosie.”
Mama pulled Beanie to the davenport and had her sit down. She held her just like she was a little baby and hushed her.
“Darlin’, shush. We want Meemaw to get some rest. She needs it,” Mama soothed. “She’ll be just fine.”
I sat beside them, praying that Jesus would come back to snatch us up into the sky like Pastor always said He would. I couldn’t imagine a world without Meemaw. And I knew it would tear Beanie up to lose her.
She would be like a tree without roots.
For as long as I could remember, Mama and Meemaw had made big business out of getting our house ready for Christmas. They’d spend days baking cookies and sweet bread. The two of them stayed up late into the night, wrapping presents and filling stockings. We never got a whole lot of presents, but what we did get was more than most the kids in town did.
For days before Christmas, Mama and Meemaw would shoo me and Beanie out of the kitchen so we wouldn’t sneak treats.
Christmas was the most magical part of life in the Spence house, even if we never did have snow fall in Red River.
The Christmas of 1934 was different. I could see it in the way Mama moved slower and hear it in her sighs. What with Meemaw in bed and less money in our pockets, it was bound to be a little less magic and more just making it through the day.
I told myself not to be upset about that.
Mama stood, shoulder-sagged, at the kitchen counter, holding the sugar canister.
“I don’t think I’ll be able to make cookies this year,” she said. Then looking at me, “I’m sorry, darlin’.”
“That’s all right, Mama,” I said.
“I’m just about clean out of sugar. Mr. Smalley didn’t have any, either.” She put the sugar canister on the top shelf of the cupboard. “It’ll just be a simple Christmas.”
“Can I make paper stars?” I asked, using my happiest voice and making myself smile at her. “We could hang them in the living room.”
“I think your daddy’s got a crate of old newspapers in the cellar. I’m sure you could use those.” Mama touched my cheek, and she looked at me with soft eyes. “I would love to have some stars. Do you think you can get your sister to help? She needs a little distracting.”
Beanie and I sat on the living-room floor, sharing Mama’s good shears and cutting out stars from the old newspapers. Our fingers smudged the black print.
“Better not get that on your dress,” I said to Beanie.
She just kept cutting, her tongue sticking out one side of her mouth.
I flipped through the paper, waiting for my sister to hand me the shears, looking for funny pages. Most of the sheets of newsprint were covered with advertisements for medicines and housewares. I turned to the front page of the paper to see the date. It was from over ten years before. The year I was born.
“Why would Daddy have papers from that long ago?” I asked.
Beanie didn’t answer. She clipped the scissors around the pages, cutting strange shapes that didn’t look a thing like stars.
I looked through the whole stack and realized all the papers were from the same date. Then I looked at the headline. It was the day the paper ran the story of Daddy shooting Jimmy DuPre. The picture of the rat face sneered from the cover of each newspaper. His eyes glared right through me, as if he knew something about me.
It sucked my breath out. I flipped the whole stack of papers over so I couldn’t see his face anymore. Gulping in air, I closed my eyes, trying to erase the rat-faced killer from my mind.
Jimmy DuPre. He was dead, I reminded myself. He couldn’t hurt anybody anymore. Daddy had won. The thoughts calmed me.
I opened my eyes and looked back at the newspaper and remembered the day when Ray and I had looked at the paper in the half-sunk-in cabin, a part of it had been missing. I remembered that I’d felt the place where it had been torn out.
Sitting on the floor at home, I touched the whole front page that covered my lap, tracing where it had been ripped out of the other copy. I skimmed over the words with my eyes.
“Baby Found on Church Steps,” it read.
I had to read it over a few times to understand.
Touching the words, it seemed I could feel them through my fingertips, bumping up from the surface of the page. I read the story of a newborn baby found abandoned on the church steps. The same church I’d lived next door to all my life. Somebody had found her, and she was all right.
“Mama,” I called, getting to my feet.
“Yes?” she answered from the kitchen.
“Did they ever find the baby’s mother?”
“What’s that, darlin’?” She pulled a pan from a cupboard by her knees. “What baby?”
“Here in this paper.” I held it up for her to see. “Did they find out who left the baby?”
She took the paper and didn’t even look at it. Swallowing hard, she met my eyes.
“I don’t recall,” she said. “They must have.”
“Who was the baby?”
She shook her head.
“It’s sad, don’t you think?” I grabbed for the paper. “A baby all alone like that.”
“Yes. Very sad. But that was a long time ago.” She put her best smile on. “How are the stars coming?”
“All right.” I leaned close to her and whispered. “Beanie’s aren’t looking so much like stars.”
“Well, that’s just fine, don’t you think?”
“You want to see the ones I made?” I led her to the living room to look at my stack. “I’ve got a whole bunch of them.”
“Very nice.” She touched my cheek. “You done a good job.”
We strung the stars with sewing thread and hung them across the room. Even the ones that looked more like a blob that Beanie had made. They looked about as good as they could have, and Mama said they were lovely.
Daddy admired the newspaper stars and blobs when he got home later that day. He said they were about the prettiest Christmas decorations he had seen in all his life.
Beanie’s smile beamed like nothing bad had ever happened to her. That made me glad.
Daddy walked under the garland we’d made, touching each shape with his fingertips, making them flutter.
Smiling, I watched them dance. My smile dropped, though, when I realized that all of Beanie’s odd shapes had been cut around the story of the abandoned baby.
CHAPTER TWENTY
On Christmas morning, I lazed in bed with Beanie still snoring next to me. Brewing coffee and something sweet baking smelled so good it made my stomach rumble. I wondered how Mama had gotten enough sugar to make something that smelled so good but decided it didn’t matter. I just wanted to eat whatever it was as slow as I could. That way the good flavor would stay in my mouth longer.
Mama stepped into our room with the prettiest of all her smiles. She wore her red dress, the one she saved for special occasions. Most surprising of all, she had her hair down. Brown curls rested on her shoulders, and I thought she looked just like a movie star.
“Merry Christmas, girls,” she said. “Now get your lazy bones out of bed and come on downstairs.”
Beanie rolled over, turning her backside toward Mama.
“Beanie Jean,” Mama laughed. “Nobody wants to see your underthings first thing in the morning.”
Beanie grumbled and rolled back the way she’d started.
“Pearl?” Mama reached for me. “You want to come down? See what Santa brought?”
I hadn’t believed in Santa for a long time. Ray had told me he was make-believe a few years before. Still, my heart swelled so big it almost hurt. To think that there might be a present for me, even if it was a small one, it was more than I had expected.
“Get up, Beanie,” I said, pushing on my sister. “Come on.”
She rolled out of bed and stood next to Mama. Allowing Mama to smooth her hair, she slumped, letting her shoulders roll forward.
“Pearl, hand me that ribbon, would you?” Mama asked.
I grabbed it from the dresser and gave it to her. She wrapped it around Beanie’s hair and tied it tight.
“There,” Mama said to my sister. “Now I can see your beautiful face.”
Beanie’s beautiful face was still swollen in a few places from where she’d been beaten.
“It hurts to smile,” Beanie said. She grinned anyway.
Some moments I looked at my sister and almost believed she was like any other girl. But then she’d do something strange or look at me in an odd way, and I’d remember that her mind would never be like everybody else’s.
“Well, let’s go.” Mama grabbed Beanie’s hand and walked with her out the room and down the stairs.
I followed behind them.
Meemaw was up and sitting in her rocking chair, a bright-colored afghan tucked around her legs. She had on her big, wide smile. She didn’t have a lot of color in her face, but her sparkling eyes made up for it.
“Merry Christmas,” she said. “Well, look at you, Beanie Jean. Just as tall as your mama.”
Beanie looked at Mama, and Mama looked back. My sister had the blank expression again. I didn’t think she understood why it mattered how tall she was.
“Getting all grown-up,” Mama beamed.
“Not too growed-up for a kiss.” Meemaw reached her arms for Beanie and then for me so we’d give her pecks on the cheek.
Daddy carried a cup of coffee into the living room. He nodded at the davenport where two bundles lay wrapped in cream-colored cotton.
“One for each of you,” he said.
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