A Cup of Dust

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A Cup of Dust Page 29

by Susie Finkbeiner


  “She sure is,” Daddy said. “She’s ours.”

  Beanie grabbed her biscuit and put it on my plate.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  It was the day for the relief truck to come to Red River. For the first time, they made a stop at our house. Mama took in the bundle of beans and flour and odds and ends. Without saying a word, she put them away in the kitchen and started mixing dough for a loaf of bread.

  “Can I help?” I asked, standing behind her.

  “How about you go rest a spell? I need to do this myself,” she answered.

  When Mama made bread, she didn’t have to measure. She just knew the right amount of everything that needed to be put together.

  “Will you teach me some day?”

  “Not today, Pearl.”

  Mama turned to grab for something, but I was in the way. Shutting her eyes, she sighed.

  “Why don’t you go read or something?” she said.

  Slumping, I walked out of the kitchen and grabbed my book of fairy tales.

  I hadn’t so much as touched that book since the cellar. Cinderella, Hansel and Gretel, Snow White. All with parents who gave them up. It was enough to make my head spin.

  Sitting on the floor, I opened the book and pretended to read the stories.

  My make-believe world had passed. The only daydreams I allowed anymore were ones where I was Mama and Daddy’s real daughter. Pretending to be anything else seemed like a waste to me.

  “You aren’t really reading, are you?” Mama asked. She stood over me, her arms crossed.

  “No, ma’am,” I answered. “I don’t much feel like it.”

  “How about you come in the kitchen with me.” She put her hand out to me and helped me up. “Seems I can use your help, after all. I’ll teach you how to bake bread the way Meemaw liked to.”

  Mama hummed as we worked the dough with our hands.

  “Am I doing it right?” I asked.

  “You’re doing just fine, darlin’.”

  Millard had made a habit of coming over every afternoon with his checkers set. We’d sit at the table and tap our round pieces against the board, moving them from one black square to the next. He let me win almost every time.

  “You’re just better than me,” he’d say and pretend to be upset about the loss.

  Each day he apologized for not having any candy to give me.

  His visits were sweet enough, anyhow.

  On one of his visits, he peeked his head in the door and smiled at me. I was already at the table, waiting on him to come.

  “Darlin’,” he said, not taking a step in the door. “I’m real sorry. But I’m not fixing to play checkers with you today.”

  I about cried for disappointment.

  “That’s okay,” I said, trying to make myself believe it was.

  “Somebody else said he wanted to play with you.” Millard stepped back and talked to someone outside. “Go on. Take the board.”

  Ray ducked his head when he walked into the house, as if he was too tall for the door frame. He did look taller, but not so tall he wouldn’t fit inside my house.

  “Hi,” I said, surprised at the way my cheeks warmed at the sight of him.

  He gave me one of his closed-lip smiles. “Wanna play?” he asked, the board in his hands.

  “Yeah.”

  We set up our game on the table. Ray used the black pieces, and I had the red ones. We’d played two games without so much as saying a word to each other. It was just nice to have him with me. I had missed my friend.

  Ray won both games. It didn’t hurt my feelings at all.

  Setting up for a third game, Ray cleared his throat.

  “You doing okay?” he asked.

  “Guess so.” I lined up my red pieces.

  “I’m glad.”

  I watched Ray place each of the black pieces on his side of the board. He wasn’t careful to make sure they were right in the middle like I had.

  “Are you all right?” I asked him.

  “Most of the time.”

  “That’s good.” I sniffed. “You go first.”

  He moved one of his pieces, and I took a turn, too. Keeping his eyes on the game, he smiled, looking more like a little boy than he had in almost a full year.

  “That duster we had the other day?” he said.

  “Yeah?”

  “I seen a bird flying right through it.”

  “You did not.”

  “Sure I did. He was flying backwards.”

  “Birds can’t fly backwards.” I jumped over one of his pieces.

  “They can so.” He moved one spot. “Well, this bird was flying backwards, at least.”

  “Fine. Whatever you say.”

  We each took a few turns. Try as I might, I couldn’t seem to get as many of his pieces as he got of mine.

  “Wanna know why?” he asked.

  “Why what?”

  “Why that bird was flying backwards?”

  “I guess.” I rested my chin on my hand.

  “So it wouldn’t get dust in his eyes.”

  Ray jumped over my last piece on the board. I didn’t care because I was giggling.

  Goodness, but did that feel good.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  March brought us endless days of dust. Storm after storm after storm buried us, blinded us. Our old enemy attacked with no mercy. The only word I could find for it was evil.

  It held me down so I could hardly move.

  I tried not to give a thought to how much the weight of the dust reminded me of Winnie’s body, bleeding on top of me.

  Mama kept the four of us holed up in the living room, damp sheets hung over the windows and doors. We all wore masks the relief truck had brought with the latest load of food.

  For as much as she rushed around, battling the dust, it still got in. It found a way. It always did.

  It wasn’t the dust or the house-shaking wind that got my nerves rattling. It was the dark. The blocked-out sun. The dim, closed-in living room. How it felt like I was underground, trapped.

  Days blustered into one another, rolling away with the dust clouds so I couldn’t tell how long the darkness pressed down on us. Mama kept track as best she could, marking each day with an X on the calendar.

  As soon as the dirt started to settle from one duster, another storm followed, hitting harder than the last.

  We didn’t have a break to catch our breath.

  Mama had served us lumps of fried dough she’d made a few days before. I didn’t feel much like eating but knew she would worry if I didn’t. I forced down a few bites.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I wish I had more to give you.”

  “This is just fine,” Daddy answered back.

  “We can’t hardly live on what that truck brings.”

  “There isn’t much else we can do.”

  We finished eating our small meal in quiet. I was grateful that Mama didn’t try to get me to eat anything else.

  A storm rolled through while we were sleeping. Whether it was morning or night or the middle of the day, none of us could tell.

  Daddy pulled Beanie and me close to him, us all hunching on the floor in front of the davenport. The wind roared something awful. The house shook like it was scared.

  Something outside cracked sharp and crashed against the house. A window upstairs smashed in.

  I breathed in and out and kept my eyes shut tight against the dust that stippled on my skin. More banging and crashing from outside. Then a blasting sound.

  Just like a gun shot.

  The weight of all things crushed down on my chest and my heart about thudded its way free from my body. My lungs wouldn’t take in any air, not because of the dust, but because of the fear.

  Moaning and groaning, it sounded like the wind called out to me. It spoke my name.

  Daddy’s arm wrapped tighter around me, squeezing me hard.

  “Let go!” I screamed. “Don’t touch me.”

  Gulping as much air a
s I could manage, I pushed away from him, scuttling across the floor to get to the other side of the room. Blind, I felt my way, pushing against the rocking chair and feeling the side table that held the radio.

  “Pearl?”

  I couldn’t tell if it was Daddy or the wind or Eddie DuPre calling after me.

  “No,” I said back. “Leave me alone.”

  Breath couldn’t come fast enough. I tore the mask from my face and sucked in. Grit filled my mouth, covered my tongue. I bit down on it, crunching it. When I breathed in, it scrubbed against my lungs. Try as I might, I couldn’t spit it out.

  Head spinning, I struggled to get the mask back on my face. It covered my nose and mouth and I gulped in chopped and jagged breaths. Every one hurt like little knives in and out.

  “Pearl?” Mama and her gentle, mask-muffled voice settled close by me. “Darlin’.”

  Her sweet voice soothed and I tried my very hardest to put my mind only on her words. She felt of me, kind fingers touching lightly. She found my shoulders and drew me into herself.

  “It’s just me,” she cooed. “You’re going to be just fine, darlin’.”

  The wind sobbed again. All of my muscles tensed, and I tried not to make a sound.

  “What is it?” Mama asked. “What’s wrong?”

  “It’s Eddie,” I mumbled. “He’s come to get me.”

  “Oh, honey,” she said. “He won’t never hurt you again.”

  “He’s here.”

  “No, darlin’.” Mama rubbed circles on my back with her hand. “Eddie’s dead, honey. He’s gone.”

  Still, I could have sworn he was riding on the wind, calling my name.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  April came, elbowing out March and its endless days of dust. Mama rushed around the house for hours on end, working to evict all the memory of the bad month with her broom and washrag. She had a list as long as my arm of things Daddy would need to fix. Windows had to be replaced, part of the roof needed mending, a shutter hung crooked.

  Looking at that list of Mama’s, Daddy whistled and shook his head.

  “You know what, Mary,” he said. “I better go check on things around town. Make sure nobody’s buried.”

  “This list is just going to be here waiting for you.” Mama raised an eyebrow at him.

  “I’m sure there’s somebody looking for a little make-work.”

  “Thomas Spence,” she scolded, then grinned at him. “I guess you’d better go.”

  “It’s my duty.”

  “Best wear your mask.” Mama grabbed it from the kitchen counter. “Don’t take it off. I don’t care what Millard says about it.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He pulled it over his face, adjusting the strap on the back of his head. “Girls, you wanna come along?”

  “Tom, I don’t think—”

  “Mary, they need to get outside. Both of them.” He picked up two of the masks and handed them to Beanie and me. “I promise we’ll come back right soon to help you around the house.”

  Stepping out on the porch, I tilted my head toward the sky. It wasn’t crystal-clear blue, but it wasn’t muddy-brown, either. Gray was a fine enough color for me.

  “You gotta keep the masks on,” Daddy said. “At least until we get out of your mama’s sight.”

  I thought to ask about taking off my shoes, too, but didn’t want to press my luck. The air on my arms and face and legs felt good enough. I settled for that.

  Beanie and I followed behind Daddy, walking side by side. I could hear her grunting sounds even through her mask. She stopped more than once to feel of the dirt with her fingers as she passed it by.

  Daddy led us down the main strip. Old wood had been nailed over the windows and door of Mr. Smalley’s shop. It looked like all the rest of the stores and diners and businesses that stood empty.

  “You know when I was a kid, that right there,” Daddy said, pointing at one of the buildings, “that was a place for men to get suits and overalls. My pa got me my first tie there.”

  I tried to picture Daddy with a tie around his neck. He would have been handsome.

  “And right next to that was a butcher. Meemaw didn’t trust him, though.” Daddy laughed. “Said he’d put his thumb on the scale so he could charge more.”

  Daddy stopped walking, and Beanie and I stood on either side of him. He turned his head both ways, looking up and down the street.

  “And over there was the diner.” He nodded at the crunched building across from the empty market. “Fella that ran that place sure made a good cup of coffee. And the best pie I ever ate.”

  “What about Mama’s pie?” I asked.

  “Well, hers is good, too, I guess.” He winked at me. “Don’t tell her I said that. I’m fixing to have her make a whole house full of pies once we get a little money.”

  “Okay, Daddy.”

  “This street used to be full of folks walking places and shopping, going to watch a movie. Folks didn’t hurt for work then. They had all of it they wanted in the fields.” Crossing his arms, he let his shoulders slump. “Red River’s about a regular old ghost town nowadays.”

  The three of us stood on that corner, Daddy remembering what the town had been and me trying to picture it all. Beanie had her own thoughts, I was sure of it. Thoughts that ran different than mine.

  “Hey, y’all gonna stand there staring all day?”

  Daddy turned his head toward the courthouse and slapped both hands on his thighs. He let out a laugh that could make the sun want to shine through the gray.

  Millard stood just outside the doors of the courthouse. Dust had piled all the way up to the porch, sloping down to the street.

  “You stuck?” Daddy hollered, taking a step into the street.

  Beanie and I followed him, not having to look both ways first. No cars were like to drive through any time soon.

  “I think we need us some shovels,” Millard said as we got closer. “I do wish this was snow instead of dirt.”

  “We could build ourselves a giant of a snowman if it was.” Daddy walked back and forth along the sidewalk, inspecting the dust mound. “Well, if ever I wanted to take over Red River, now would be the time, you stuck in the courthouse and all.”

  “You wanna run this place?” Millard put both hands up in surrender. “You’ve got it.”

  “No, sir. I don’t believe I’d be any good at it.”

  “I think you’d surprise yourself.” Millard grinned at both Beanie and me. “How you girls holding up? Doing all right?”

  “Yes, sir,” I answered.

  “And your mama?”

  “She’s to home cleaning.”

  “That’s fine.” He nodded. “I expect most everybody’s doing that today.”

  “We’re headed out to the cabins.” Daddy nodded at the dust-covered steps. “If we can break you out of there, you wanna go along?”

  “Sure would.”

  Daddy used a shovel, and Beanie and I had brooms. In about no time we had it so Millard could get out. He went down the stairs with shaky steps, holding tight to the railing.

  He cupped his hand against my cheek and smiled.

  “Glad to see y’all,” he said.

  Not much of the sharecroppers’ cabins survived the month of March. The ones that had stayed in one piece were so blocked by dust, a body wouldn’t have been able to get in or out without a whole lot of digging.

  Mrs. Jones stood next to where their dugout had been. Dirt and dust and parts of other cabins piled up on what had been their roof. It was caved in, but completely. Next to her, Ray held his hands over his face, his whole body looking like it would collapse on itself any minute.

  “Lord have mercy,” Millard said under his breath. “Ain’t they been through enough?”

  Mrs. Jones saw us coming. At first, she made to walk away but gave up. There was nowhere for her to go, anyway.

  “Y’all okay?” Daddy asked.

  Mrs. Jones didn’t turn to him and didn’t answer him. She ju
st kept her eyes fixed on the pile of her house.

  “Where you been staying, Mrs. Jones?” Millard asked, putting a hand on her shoulder.

  “Over to that one there.” She moved her head in the direction of a cabin a few yards away. “Nobody’s been there a long time. We didn’t think it would do no harm.”

  “That’s fine. Glad you done it.”

  Ray lowered his hands but didn’t raise his face. It was better that way. He would have been embarrassed if he’d known I noticed the streaks of wet under each eye.

  “Y’all can stay at our house,” Daddy said. “We got plenty room.”

  “We can’t do that,” Mrs. Jones said. “We’d hate to put you out.”

  “Mary wouldn’t forgive me if I took no for an answer, Luella.”

  Loose skin hung from the bones in Mrs. Jones’s arms. Her body had gotten so skinny, it looked like she’d stopped eating weeks ago. She pushed her hair back. Hair that had become brittle and thin. Her cheeks blazed red.

  “I don’t mean to shame you,” Daddy said. “But you’ve got to have a place to sleep.”

  “We’re just fine over in that cabin.”

  “Ma,” Ray said. “Please.”

  Shaking her head, Mrs. Jones pushed her lips together. Her jaw clenched, and she crossed her arms.

  “You go on,” she said. “Raymond, you just go on and stay with them. I ain’t gonna.”

  “Ma …”

  “I ain’t hearing nothing outta you.” Her eyes were closed, and she bit at her top lip. “You go on and stay at the sheriff’s. And you do your best to help out.”

  “I want you to come.”

  “You mind your manners, too, boy. I don’t wanna hear nothing about you being rude or mean.”

  “Luella,” Daddy said. “There’s no shame …”

  Lifting her lids, I saw the ghost eyes and the red rims where her eyelashes should have been.

  “Sheriff Spence, shame’s all I got left to my name.” She touched Ray’s shoulder. “I’ll come check on you later. Be good.”

  “Come on, son,” Daddy said, reaching an arm around Ray.

  We all turned to leave. All except Beanie, who stood watching Mrs. Jones.

 

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