A Trail of Crumbs

by Finkbeiner, Susie;

  Ray rolled to his side, watching Daddy tell the story and grinning like all get-out.

  “I read another something that said once they got that bridge up nobody dared step foot on it.” Daddy felt of his shirt pocket and pulled out a fresh cigarette. “Mary, I never did tell you thank you for that lunch. It was real good, sugar.”

  “Uh-huh,” she said.

  “See, folks were scared that bridge wouldn’t hold up under them,” Daddy went on after lighting his cigarette. “You wanna know how they got them to trust it?”

  Ray and I both nodded.

  “They hired themselves an elephant.” Daddy raised his eyebrows and nodded his head. “You believe that?”

  I told him I wasn’t sure I did.

  “If I could find that book I’d show it to you,” he said. “They borrowed that elephant from a zoo not too far from here. Miss Jim was that elephant’s name, if I remember right.”

  “Miss Jim?” I giggled.

  “That’s right. Miss Jim. Can’t quite figure out if it was a male or female. Guess it doesn’t matter too much.” Daddy took a drag off his cigarette. “Anyhow, they put a collar and leash on Miss Jim and had him stomp across the bridge all the way to the Illinois side and back again.”

  Ray gave out the biggest laugh I’d heard from him in too long a time.

  “It’s true,” Daddy said.

  “Tom …” Mama shook her head and sighed.

  “I’m telling you, this part is the God-honest truth.”

  “Did the bridge hold up?” I tilted my head, still not sure I believed him.

  “It’s still there, ain’t it?” Ray said, still chuckling at the idea of it.

  “Mama, is that a true story?” I asked.

  “I don’t know,” she answered, getting up off the blanket. “I never know when it’s your daddy telling the story.”

  “Well, I tell you, it’s true. Most of it, at least.” Daddy stood and brushed the crumbs and ash off his pants. “Sometimes the most true stories are the most ridiculous.”

  I helped Mama clean up the lunch things, all the time imagining Miss Jim the elephant walking heavy-footed across that bridge. And I pictured me riding along on its back with Daddy leading it by the leash.

  I wouldn’t have closed my eyes even to blink for fear I’d miss seeing something. Far as I could figure, it would take a full day to walk all the way across, especially on a slow-moving elephant. The river was just that wide.

  I thought the God who’d carved out that river, scooping down in the earth with His own hand, must’ve been just as big as Meemaw had always said He was.

  Just thinking of it made me feel small.

  Daddy let me ride in the back with Ray. Mama sighed like she didn’t approve of the idea one bit, but she didn’t say a word of argument. I was sure glad for that. I didn’t want to go over that bridge and see it all from behind a window.

  When we made it about halfway across the river I got a feeling that sunk deep in me. If anybody’d asked me that day what it was I felt, I wouldn’t have had any words for it. It was like nothing I’d ever had in my heart before. Akin to grief, but something different, too.

  Part of the feeling was knowing how far we were from home. That river was a big, long, thick line, and once we were over it we couldn’t go back. Even if we did, it wouldn’t ever be the same again. Not like it had been before.

  I went ahead and let myself cry. Not a loud one or a messy one. A quiet cry.

  When Ray asked me what was wrong, I told him I missed Millard.

  It was the truth.

  Once we crossed over to Illinois I settled in, using a soft quilt as a pillow, and let myself fall asleep with the open air and sunshine on my face.

  I dreamed in black and gray and white.

  Running, I kicked up sprays of black dust with my bare feet. My legs were strong again, my stride wide. It felt good, the air against my face and the way my hair fanned out behind me.

  A swooshing, whooshing wind pushed at my back, forcing me to run faster and faster, the noise growing to a growl, to a roar. Turning, I saw a black duster lunging at me, its jaws open and spitting rocks and stones to sting at my heels, my legs, my back.

  Try as I might, I couldn’t see anything that looked familiar. Nothing that could lead me home.

  The duster pawed at me, catching at me with a sharp claw and tossing me up into its swirling, twirling body. Arms waving wild, I tried to grab hold of something, anything, that might save me. Nothing but dirt and rock to catch in my hands.

  Beanie stood on the ground, staring up at me, her hair standing on end and her skin tinged blue. She stepped right into the duster, her arms spread wide, letting it catch her up until she was spinning, spinning, spinning right along with me.

  We fought the dust, the two of us, bleeding and bruised and scared. We fought to get to each other. Catching her, I grabbed tight and we flew round and round as one person.

  Then she tore at my hands, forcing me to let go. She pushed me and pushed me again until I couldn’t reach her anymore, until I was falling out of the duster and to the ground.

  The black sucked her all the way in and carried her off to wherever it was headed next.

  When I jolted awake it was dark and the truck had stopped. Ray sat beside me, his head leaned back against the truck, his eyes shut tight and chest rising and falling with asleep-breathing.

  The truck moved on again and I rolled onto my back to watch the stars above me, trying to put the bad dream from my mind.

  For the life of me, I couldn’t get Beanie’s face out of my head.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Mama made short work of getting us breakfast and heating up coffee for her and Daddy. She’d gotten real good at cooking over a fire. But when I told her I liked her camping-out food as well as her in-the-kitchen food, she just sighed and shook her head.

  Daddy used his pinkie finger to trace the line on the map he said was our way to where we were headed. It angled and curved, crossing paths with other roads and running all by its lonesome in other places. He pointed to towns and cities we’d pass through. He tapped the map with his middle knuckle twice before lifting his head. He had a pleased look on his face.

  “If I had to guess I’d say we’ll be there before supper,” he said.

  “Where?” I asked.

  “Gus’s house.” He let out a whooping sound and set to folding up the map. “It’s our last day on the road.”

  “Thank the Lord,” Mama sighed. “I’ll be glad to sleep in a bed tonight.”

  “And I’ll be glad to sleep in a bed beside you,” Daddy said, winking up at her.

  “Thomas,” Mama said, sounding upset. “The kids.”

  “Sugar, you always have been mighty pretty when you blush.”

  Daddy was right about that.

  Mama insisted on us finding a place with fresh water so we could scrub a little of the road off ourselves before we got to Gus’s. Much as Daddy didn’t want to stop, he did as she said. A nice man at a fill station let us clean up in the sink out back. The water was cold and smelled like bad eggs, but it sure felt good to be clean, even just a little.

  The man even let us use the toilet. It was a nice change from doing my business in the bushes.

  Mama had me change into a fresh dress and worked a braid into my still wet hair. She fretted about everything she could think of. Most of all, she worried over not being able to have hot water so we could get really clean. Daddy told her we’d done all we could.

  “Besides,” he said. “Gus isn’t going to sniff us. He’s got better manners than a hound dog.”

  Even Mama had to smile at that.

  I’d hoped Mama would let me sit in the back with Ray, but she worried I’d get myself too worn-out. If I’d been a sass-mouthed girl I might have asked if she thought we were fixing to play baseball or hold a square dance back there. But I didn’t say such a thing because I knew she’d get the soap back out of the box and have me taste it for my troubles.<
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  I tried sleeping, thinking it might make the time go by faster. Excitement kept me awake, though, not allowing me to keep my eyes closed more than a minute or two. I couldn’t hardly stand the waiting.

  “You sure they know we’re coming?” Mama asked. “Shouldn’t we try calling?”

  “They know,” Daddy answered. “I can try to find a telephone once we get into town.”

  “I hate to put upon them.” Mama folded and unfolded her hands over and over in her lap. “Maybe we should find someplace else to go for the night.”

  “Gus’ll just insist we stay at his house,” Daddy told her. “You know him. He wouldn’t ever hear of us going to a hotel.”

  “Oh, I know,” Mama said. “But what about his wife? I don’t wanna put her out.”

  “Do you really think Gus’d marry somebody that got put out so easy?” Daddy winked at her. “She’s put up with Gus nearly twenty years. She must be real patient.” Mama touched her forehead and tapped her fingers against it real lightly. “Do we even know how to get to their house?”

  “I’ve got the address in my billfold.” Daddy pulled a cigarette from his shirt pocket and held it between two fingers, not lighting it just yet. “Might have to ask directions once we get to town.”

  Mama sighed and covered her face with both hands, rubbing at her forehead like her head hurt.

  “You all right, Mama?” I asked her.

  She shut her eyes and licked her lips. “I’m fine,” she answered. “Just nervous is all.”

  We kept going, mile after mile, each one getting us closer to happy. Still, Mama looked more jittery and miserable by the minute.

  Daddy let out a whistle and slapped his hand against the steering wheel. Then he reached around and scratched at his neck, letting his shoulders relax.

  “Just got in Michigan,” he said, a laugh in his voice. “Lord Almighty, we’re just about there.”

  Mama touched the hollow spot at the bottom of her neck and breathed in deep. She blinked, her lids flitting up and down the way she did when she was trying hard not to cry. I reached for the hand she’d kept on her lap but she pulled it away before I could take it in my own.

  I told myself she hadn’t meant anything by it, still I felt a twinge of hurt.

  Leaning forward, I rested my fingertips on the dashboard. The leftover grit from Oklahoma rubbed against my skin.

  “Lean back, darlin’,” Mama said, putting her hand on my shoulder. “It’s not safe.”

  I did as she asked, glad for once to have her worry over me.

  Smooth road gave way to bumpy, rutted dirt. Daddy had to slow down his driving, which was fine by me. It made watching the countryside pass that much easier. On Daddy’s side of the truck were fields stubbled by green sprouts and on Mama’s side were rows of stalks. Tractors rumbled over the land and men walked through the crop, hands stuffed in overall pockets.

  Where the road curved to the right, Daddy pulled over and turned off the engine. He swung his door open and stepped out. He told us to come on and we followed him to an arrow-shaped sign.

  “What’s it say?” Ray asked, squinting like he was too nearsighted to make out the letters.

  “Welcome to Bliss, Michigan,” I read out loud to him.

  “Bliss,” he echoed. He stepped up to the sign and touched the letters as if he wished he could grab hold of them and make them stand still so he could read them without any trouble.

  Daddy scooped me up, holding me close to his face and kissing my cheek. I worried I was getting too big for him to hold like that. But he didn’t strain or grunt at picking me up.

  “We’ve made it,” he whispered in my ear. “We’ll be happy here. Real happy.”

  I hoped more than anything that he was right about that.

  He let me down and took my hand. The two of us looked up the curved road and squinted, trying to see a building or house or something. All we saw were thick trees and dirt road.

  “Can’t hardly see nothin’,” Ray said.

  “Guess we should get a closer look.”

  We loaded back into the truck, Mama telling me I should ride up front with her again so I wouldn’t breathe in the dirt that got kicked up by the truck. I didn’t argue or even let myself get sore about it. The excitement bubbled up so strong I couldn’t hardly feel anything else at all.

  Mama, though, had started crying. I couldn’t figure out why. But I sure did hope they were happy tears.

  Not one of the buildings along the main street of Bliss was boarded up. They all had signs that said they were open for business. We drove along and saw a theater and diner and butcher and general store. It wasn’t so big as Boise City, not by a long shot. Still, Bliss was alive and buzzing and I thought I’d like it well enough.

  Folks walked up and down the street and a couple cars went past us from the other direction. A woman in a flowered dress watched us drive by. I didn’t wave at her, still she smiled at me when she caught me looking at her.

  Daddy parked the truck along the curb behind an old rusted-out jalopy. He sighed as he cut the engine and closed his eyes.

  “I’d be glad to never drive another mile as long as I live,” he said. Then he patted his stomach. “Sure am hungry. Bet y’all are too.”

  “I could get something together,” Mama said. But the way she blinked slow and heavy, I thought feeding us was the last thing on her mind.

  “I’ll do it,” I said.

  She took my hand, squeezing it. “You don’t have to do that.”

  “Hey, Ray,” Daddy called out the window. “You hungry, son?”

  “Yes, sir,” Ray answered from the back of the truck.

  “Looks like a good diner right there.” Daddy nodded at a building along the side of the road. “Bet they’ve got good pie.”

  “Tom, we can’t afford it,” Mama said.

  “Sure we can.” He winked at her. “I put a little aside just in case something happened to the truck or we had to stay over someplace along the way. Still got every penny of it.”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Bet they got a phone I could use to call Gus.” Daddy opened his door. “You don’t have to come in if you don’t want to. But I sure would like a piece of pie and a cup of coffee. And I wouldn’t mind having your company to enjoy, too.”

  “I’d like the kids to have some milk,” Mama said. “They haven’t had any in so long I can’t even remember when.”

  “We’re going to be all right, sugar,” Daddy told her. “Life’s going to be good again.”

  Mama nodded and touched her stomach like it ached, her fingers spread wide. “I want to hope it will be.”

  Every booth in the diner was empty. The only seat with a backside on it was a stool at the counter. The man sitting on it was the roundest person I’d ever seen. His short legs dangled from the stool and he let one of his feet sway with the music coming from the radio behind the counter. He was eating a sandwich that dripped with ketchup and grease. He turned toward us and gave us a nod of the head.

  “Oh, Shirley,” he called out after swallowing. “You’ve got customers.”

  A woman who I guessed was Shirley came through a door that swung shut behind her. She had on a nice blouse and a pair of slacks under her apron. I did my very best not to stare, but I’d never seen a woman in pants before. She smiled at me and winked like she knew how surprised I was.

  I tried to think of a way to ask if I could have a pair of pants, just to play in. But the way Mama looked at me out of the corner of her eye, I knew she’d read my mind and the answer was never-in-my-lifetime.

  “You folks go ahead and sit wherever you like,” she told us. Then she cocked her thumb at the man on the stool. “I’ll even kick this bum out of his seat if you want.”

  The man snorted a laugh out his nose and I wondered if he was some kind of hobo. By how rumpled his shirt looked, it wouldn’t have surprised me one bit.

  Daddy asked if we’d like to sit at the counter and helped me climb u
p on my stool. I could have done it all by myself, but knew Mama would’ve worried over me not acting ladylike. Seemed the right thing just then, minding my pleases and thank-yous. It was a small price to pay for a piece of pie.

  “Just passing through?” the woman asked.

  “Nope.” Daddy got up on his own stool right beside Mama. “Just got into town. We’re staying over to Gus’s house.”

  “Gus Seegert?” Shirley smiled.

  “That’s the one.”

  “You must be the cousin he’s been bragging about,” she said. “I think the whole town has heard about you by now.”

  “Well, Gus has always been real good at telling stories.” Daddy looked over at Mama. “Probably best if you don’t believe all of what he says.”

  “I don’t know about that,” Shirley said. Then she took a pad of paper from her apron pocket. “What can I get you?”

  “You should try the corned beef,” the man at the end of the counter said, holding up his sandwich. “It’s good.”

  “Well, we’re looking for a couple slices of pie,” Daddy said. “Maybe even a cup of coffee for my wife and me. Milk for the kids.”

  “All right.” She put the pad back in her pocket. “Today I’ve got peach or blueberry.”

  I wasn’t sure if I could ever choose, they both sounded real good to me, but I picked blueberry on account the crust looked extra sugary.

  She served us before going back through the swinging door. The man at the counter got off his stool and poured himself a cup of coffee.

  “Now, you came from Oklahoma,” he said, leaning back against the wall. “Is that right?”

  “Yup,” Daddy answered. Then he reached his hand over the counter. “Tom Spence.”

  “Nice to meet you.” The man shook hands. “Jacob Winston. But everybody around here just calls me Winston.”

  “Good to know you, Winston.” Daddy sipped his coffee and flinched. “Good Lord.”

  “Strong, isn’t it?” Winston slurped from his cup. “You get used to it after a while.”