by Jayne Pupek
I missed Daddy, missed the sound of his voice, and the way he smelled like cedar and aftershave. I missed his strong hands lifting me off the ground, a smile hidden in his eyes. I wanted to go to the store and sweep up the dust for Daddy, then come home and sit next to him on the sofa while he read the newspaper. I wanted to hold his shirt on my lap and sew found buttons on his sleeve. The ache in my heart grew because I could do none of these things.
The yellow bus slowed, screeching to a stop in front of my house. I climbed down and stood along the curb. The air smelled crisp and new, and I looked up, noticed the thick clouds overhead, and heard distant thunder.
Sheriff Rhodes’s car wasn’t parked in front, but I knew he’d been there because his car leaked oil. I stepped over a fresh black spot as I walked toward the house.
“Ellie?” Mama’s voice came to me from the side of the house.
“Mama?”
“I’m over here, Ellie.”
I looked around and saw Mama walking from the direction of Daddy’s shed. Her hair stood out around her head, and she wiped her hands on her pink housecoat, leaving dirt stains.
“Mama, what are you doing out here?” I didn’t want the neighbors to see Mama looking this way. “Where’s Baby Tom?”
“Why, he’s in the house, of course, taking a nap.” Mama ran her fingers through her hair.
I nodded. When Mama’s in one of her moods, I know better than to argue or ask too many questions.
“I’ve been out here looking for your father.”
“Daddy? He’s back?” I dropped my books on the ground and pointed toward the shed. “Where? In there?”
“He’s not there now. I heard him, though, while I was inside with Sheriff Rhodes. He kept calling to me ‘Julia, come to me. Julia.’ Of course, I couldn’t say anything, for fear the sheriff might arrest him. So I had to wait until Sheriff Rhodes left.” She smoothed the front of her housecoat.
“Mama, how did you hear Daddy from inside? Did you have the window open?”
Mama’s jaw tightened. “Don’t question me, young lady.”
I felt the weight pressing down on me. Daddy hadn’t come home. Mama heard him inside her head, the same place she heard Baby Tom crying.
A man’s voice called out to us. “Hello, there. Fine day, isn’t it?”
Mama and I turned toward the voice. The postman stood on the sidewalk. He handed Mama a newspaper and three or four envelopes, then scratched his sunburned ear. “I was wondering if Rupert was in? I stopped by the store, but he wasn’t there. The wife’s collie is getting old, leaves puddles all over the house, so I need to fence in part of the yard. Thought maybe Rupert could give me a hand.”
“Your wife’s pissing dog is not my husband’s problem,” Mama snapped. “Besides,” she added, thumbing through the mail, “he isn’t here right now.”
The postman’s face turned as red as his ears. “I see. I’m sorry … didn’t mean to …”
I looked down at the grass. I felt sorry for the postman, but didn’t know what to say. If I apologized with Mama right there, she’d get mad at me. The postman could go home, forget all about Mama. I had to stay.
“Well, thank you just the same,” he said, then turned and walked away.
Mama dropped all the mail on the ground except for one blue envelope. She looked at the writing, turned it over in her hand. “It’s to you,” she said.
“Me?” Who would be writing me? I wondered.
Mama recognized the writing. “It’s from your daddy!” Instead of handing me the envelope, she ripped it open and pulled out the letter. Paper money floated to the ground.
I waited impatiently for her to finish reading the letter and give it to me.
“That bastard is never coming home!” Mama screamed as she ripped up the letter and threw the pieces into the air.
“Why, Mama? Why?” I knelt in the grass to pick up the pieces of blue paper. “The note was to me! Daddy wrote the letter to me!”
Mama stormed off toward the house without a word. She’d torn up my note from Daddy, the only thing that might tell me where he’d gone or when he was coming home again. I didn’t want to follow her.
A gust of wind carried away the money and pieces of Daddy’s note, and I chased after them.
One of the twenty-dollar bills blew into the neighbor’s yard, but I didn’t care. Losing the money didn’t even matter; I wanted to know what Daddy had to say.
I shoved the pieces into my dress pocket and ran down Grace Street. If anyone in the world could read a torn letter, Clara could.
“YOU BROUGHT ME a jigsaw, did you?” Clara stood in her yard as I came running up.
“How did you know?” I looked at Clara with amazed eyes.
“Oh, I see things. Pictures inside my head.” Clara held out her hand and I gave her the blue pieces of paper. “Come inside. We’ll get to work.”
While I fed and cuddled Easter, Clara spread out the scraps of paper on her kitchen table. She lit a candle, then sprinkled salt on all four corners of the table. She sat down, spread her hands over the scraps and began to rearrange the pieces. Clara didn’t read the words to know where the pieces belonged. She circled the paper slips with her hands as if she could read them with her fingertips the way blind children read Braille.
I watched from my seat by the stove. Before long, Clara called me to the table.
When I saw the letter, my mouth fell open. The blue paper on the table was a perfect rectangle. No rips. Not a single tear.
“Clara … how? I mean …”
“Hush, child. Sit here and read this letter. Your Daddy’s got something to tell you.”
Clara rose from her chair and motioned me to sit, which I did. My hands shook. I gripped the edge of the table to keep them still as I read.
Dear Ellie,
Here’s a little money. I know it’s not much, but it’ll buy some groceries. I’ll send you more when I can. I sent this to you because I don’t know if your mother can handle a letter from me. I know I let you both down. I can’t ever make it up to her, but I’ll try to make it up to you if you let me.
Tess is in the hospital, but I can’t tell you where. The doc stitched up her cut, and gave her some pills, but infection set in, and a bad fever, a fever so high she doesn’t even know my face. But she’ll get better. If I didn’t believe that, I don’t know what I’d do.
When I can, I’ll come like I promised. But it will be a little longer than I thought, honey.
No matter what, Ellie, you’ll always be my girl.
Love,
Daddy
When I finished reading Daddy’s letter, Clara tossed the page into the air and blew a long, deep breath under it.
All around me, blue shreds fell like confetti.
THIRTY-NINE
THE WEEKS
THE FOLLOWING WEEKS brought more notes from Daddy. After the first one, I waited every day after school for the postman’s delivery.
As time went by, Daddy sent less money and wrote shorter notes. I tried to give the money to Mama, but even mentioning Daddy made her angry. I put the cash in her pocketbook or in the cookie jar on top of the refrigerator so we’d have money for trips to the market. Daddy never sent enough though, and some of the bills went unpaid.
I went to the shed to read Daddy’s letters. Each time, I hoped he’d tell me about the day he planned to return, but he wrote mostly about Tess. I kept his letters in a shoebox under my bed to read over again at night. I reread them so many times, I knew them by heart.
He never put a return address on the envelope, and the postmarks came from different towns. Still, I had things to tell Daddy, so I wrote him back and kept my unsent letters in the box along with his.
Dear Ellie,
Tess has healed up from the infection. The doctor says she will be well enough to go home in another day or two, but her fever went so high, he’s not sure how much it damaged her mind. Some of what she lost is sure to come back in time. She’s got good c
olor. Remember how pink her cheeks turned when she laughed? She’s still a little pale, but the color coming back is a good sign. Even the doctor said so and he doesn’t know her like I do. I’ll know when she’s close to well again. She’s not there yet, but she will be, and then I’ll come for you, Ellie.
I know you’re taking good care of your mother. I wish I knew how to help her, Ellie, but honest to God, I tried everything to cast out the demons in her head.
Right now, getting Tess back to normal takes every waking moment. I sit by her bed and talk to her, trying to help her remember the things she forgets. What hurts the most is that she sometimes doesn’t seem to recognize me.
Love,
Daddy
Dear Daddy,
I don’t know where you are, but I miss you. I know Mama misses you as much as I do. Sheriff Rhodes comes by nearly every day. He is looking for you, Daddy, but he’s promised not to hurt you. He says it would be better in the end if you turned yourself in. He knows about the letter from Mr. Reed, and he knows I know about it, but I swear not to tell. I will never tell. Not even Mary Roberts.
I’m packing my bag, Daddy. I put in some clean underwear and two dresses so far. Mama doesn’t wash clothes anymore so I can’t pack much. I’m a woman now and have my own bra even. I haven’t packed that yet, since I only have the one. Clara took me shopping to buy it because of how Mama is right now. You remember the colored woman, Clara, who reads cards and palms and knows magic? We’ve become friends, Daddy. The day you left, she and Jericho took me in and they look after me now.
I miss you, Daddy. I’m really sorry about Tess, but Mama is growing more angry over little things. I’m afraid of her sometimes. Please come home. I’ll do anything you want if you just come home. I promise to be good.
Love,
XOXO
Ellie
Dear Ellie,
Today is a special day. May 2, 1969—remember this day. It’s the day Tess came home from the hospital! She’s out of the woods now, but she doesn’t talk yet. She sits by the window and watches the birds, and I bring her food to help her regain her strength. She doesn’t remember how to feed herself, and sometimes the sight of the spoon makes her cry.
There was a little flicker in her eye today when she saw a robin on the window sill, and she tried to speak. She made a sound like “je-je” and at first, I thought she meant jay, as in blue jay, but then she looked away, and I kept guessing wrong. She reached out her hand to the jar of jelly on the table. Then I knew she was remembering Jellybean. When I said his name, tears came to her eyes, and it nearly broke my heart. I know it will do Tess good to see you, Ellie, and to hear from your own mouth that you don’t blame her for what happened. I know one day you are going to love Tess as much as I do.
I hope the new chick is doing all right, honey.
I’m sending a little money. I know it’s not much, but I can’t go out to work just yet and leave Tess like this. I met a man who needs somebody to drive his pulpwood to the next state, so as soon as I can figure what to do about Tess, I’ll have a job and then I will be able to send more.
If you or your mother need anything, you ask Mr. Morgan’s son. Don’t say anything to the sheriff. You are my girl. I know I can count on you.
Love,
Daddy
Dear Daddy,
Easter is doing fine. He’s lost most of his green color now that his new feathers are growing in. He stays with Clara and Jericho, but I go over to visit him every day, and Clara is teaching me how to bake pies. She’s also teaching me how to read cards and which herbs work magic on the sick. I cured a blister on my foot with just a dab of gray powder.
We had a little accident with the new chick when Mama put him in a can and forgot to poke holes. He was nearly dead, but Clara brought him back.
I keep asking her to make her magic work to cure Mama’s mind and bring you home again, but she says there’s a limit to how much magic she can do unless a person wants it to work. The magic only worked on Easter because he wanted to live. That makes me wonder if you do want to come back? You do want to, don’t you, Daddy? Please say you do.
I would ask her to bring back Baby Tom, but I worry that Mama would hurt him. The way Mama acts, maybe it’s better she has only a dead baby to take care of, and not one who needs love.
Love,
XOXOXO
Ellie
Dear Ellie,
I had to take the job or risk losing it, so now I’m driving the pulpwood truck between states. I take Tess along. Some words are coming back to her, but her recovery will be slow. She had a seizure last night, and I sat up with her until morning. She’s grown afraid of the dark.
I take Tess along on all my runs. I tried to find a woman to look after her, but the only one I could afford said no when I told her about Tess’s seizures.
I’ll send you a little money when I get paid.
Love,
Daddy
Dear Daddy,
Mama keeps trying to nurse the baby. She keeps me up sometimes all night. Last night, she sat up and smoked cigarettes. I went for a walk and got sick. All the smoke and no sleep made my head and stomach hurt. I threw up in the cemetery. I leaned up against somebody’s headstone and cried myself to sleep.
There’s been rumors about you, Daddy, about how you ran off with the tomato girl. People say you shot Mason Reed so you could have his girl for yourself.
Mr. Morgan taught me about chalk doors before you left, when Mama was in the hospital. He showed me how to draw a door and close out words that hurt. Being behind the door helps, but I’m still scared.
I try to make things look normal, but can’t keep up. Clara makes sure we get supper, but we have so many bills, and Mama is getting worse. She yells at me for every little thing I do. Sheriff Rhodes says that the autopsy report came back, and that he has to bring you in. It sounds bad, Daddy. He even knows about the pulpwood truck. He promises he won’t hurt you, Daddy, as long as you don’t run.
Love,
XOXOXO
Ellie
Dear Ellie,
I’m running loads of pulpwood nearly every day, trying to keep a roof over our heads and pay the hospital bill. I send what I can. I hope you understand.
Tess is getting better. She smiles and squeezes my hand. The truck rides are long and hard, but we manage. I stop to let her walk around. Today, I bought her a tomato plant. She holds it on her lap while we make our runs.
Be a good girl, Ellie. Make sure you do your homework and look after things until I come.
Love,
Daddy and Tess
Dear Daddy,
I haven’t been able to study like I’m supposed to, and my grades are getting bad. I try hard, memorizing words on the front porch while I wait for the postman. But when the test comes, I forget them. I hope you won’t be mad when you see my report card. I can’t think straight when I’m hungry, sleepy, and scared. Mama keeps me up late, fretting about Baby Tom, and we never really have enough to eat. I worry what’s going to happen now that Sheriff Rhodes knows where you are.
I’m seeing a counselor at school. I have to go because of my bad grades. I sit in Mrs. Milby’s office and draw pictures or play with dolls. I’m supposed to talk to her, but she only wants to know my secrets. When I step into her office, I just can’t speak. She is nice to me, but I hate her. She wants me to talk about you.
My bags are all packed for when you come.
Love,
XOXOXO
Ellie
The next blue envelope came with no note, only three twenty-dollar bills folded inside.
Dear Daddy,
Thank you for the money, but I miss your letters. Tell me when, Daddy? When are you coming home? Tell me about the route you will take, how you have mapped it out, how you have filled the tank with gas, and found somebody to look after Tess. Oh, Daddy, I need good news.
Because we had money, Mama decided this would be market day. Sometimes, she sends me alone to pick up
bread, milk, and a few tin cans from the bins marked “Half-price, dented,” but not this time.
Today, she put on her dark coat over her dirty nightgown and told me to come along. She stood in the market and smashed yellow squash on the floor. She yelled at the vendor over the price of his rotten tomatoes. I couldn’t take his side, or explain how the tomato girl had taken you away.
Please, Daddy. We need you. I need you. This is too hard to do alone.
Love,
XOXOXO
Ellie
FORTY
THE SCARECROW MOTHER
WHEN WE COME home from the market, Mama drops the paper bag on the kitchen table. Her elbow bumps a glass of juice left from breakfast, spilling the juice on the floor.
“Clean that up!” Mama slaps my face.
I jump. My cheek stings, and I am too shocked to know what to say. I don’t remember the last time Mama struck me.
Mama paces the floor and runs her hands through her tangled hair. She used to comb it behind her ears, curling the ends under with her fingertips, her brown bangs swept to one side. Sometimes she’d take tortoiseshell combs and pull the sides up, or use a ribbon from her sewing box to tie her hair in a ponytail. She hardly washes it anymore. It’s like straw now, and when she rakes her fingers through it, pieces stick out. Mama has turned into a scarecrow, and I’m the bird she frightens away.
“Why didn’t you drink your juice? You think we can afford to pour juice on the goddamn floor?” Mama’s hands rest on her hips. The blue vein in her neck rises like a snake trapped under her skin.
Hearing Mama curse makes me want to cry. Once she wouldn’t allow bad words. Now I hear her at night in her rocking chair, chanting bad words about Daddy and Tess.
It’s not only the bad words. Mama’s voice is changing.
Her voice used to lift. She might say, “We’re having boiled cabbage for supper,” and it would sound like an invitation. Her smooth voice made me want to eat the cabbage, even though I hate it.