Every Day After (16 page)

If the sunny weather was attempting to predict a good day, it was flat-out wrong. I hadn’t been at work for more than two hours when Erin flounced in. I was standing at the back dusting off shelves of jams and jellies when I heard her high-pitched voice echo through the store.

“Hello, Mr. Hinkle. How are you today?”

“Why, Erin, I’m fine as frog hair. You?”

“I’m fine. I just came in to get a few things for Mother.”

“All righty. You just hand me the list and I’ll let you know when I’ve finished.”

Mr. Hinkle might’ve been fine as frog hair when Erin came in, but he probably wouldn’t be so lucky by the time she went out. And if he was, I figured I wouldn’t be. Unless I hid. If Erin couldn’t see me, she couldn’t bother me. I ducked into the back room with Mrs. Hinkle.

“What are you doing back here?” Mrs. Hinkle shrieked. “I gave you a dust rag not ten minutes ago, and you’re supposed to be using it.” She pointed her fat finger toward the storefront.

Erin was waiting for me when I came back out.
“What’cha hiding from, Lizzie?” Erin whispered. “Wouldn’t be me, would it?”

“Go away, Erin,” I said. “I’m busy.”

Erin’s eyes widened at the realization that I was an employee, not a customer. “You mean you’re working here? Things must be pretty bad for that to happen.”

“Everything’s fine. Now, will you get your mother’s things and go?” I turned around and began to dust, carefully picking up one jelly jar at a time, wiping the wood beneath it, and putting it back.

“All finished, Erin,” Mr. Hinkle called from the front counter.

Erin didn’t budge. She watched me work for a few seconds before she said in a hushed voice, “I’m going. You just be careful not to drop anything.”

I ignored her and picked up another jar. The next thing I knew, Erin’s shoulder rammed straight into the middle of my back. The force shoved me into the shelf, and I grabbed hold of it, trying to steady myself. It jerked and jiggled against my weight. Two jars teetered and crashed to the floor. Shattered glass and blueberry jam burst across the wood floor like a giant, sparkling ink blot.

I turned to give Erin a piece of my mind, but she was already taking her bag from Mr. Hinkle.

Mrs. Hinkle came flying out of the back room. “Land sakes, you careless girl! You’d best get to cleaning that up this instant! And don’t you think for one minute that I won’t take the cost of that jam out of your pay.” She
mumbled something else I couldn’t make out, and then hurried away.

Erin smirked at me as she went out the door. Mr. Hinkle brought over a mop and patted my shoulder. “Accidents happen,” he said. “I’ve knocked over more than my fair share of jars in my time.” He glanced up to make sure Mrs. Hinkle was in the back again. “I always got in trouble too.”

I wanted to tell Mr. Hinkle that this wasn’t an accident. That Erin had caused me to do it. But it was useless. In front of all the adults in town, she was as sweet as pie. It was people her own age who got to see her as sour as unripe persimmons.

The rest of the afternoon dragged by at a snail’s pace. I tried to stay extra quiet and extra careful. Mrs. Hinkle was already madder than a wet hen, and I didn’t want to make it worse.

When it was finally time for me to escape Mrs. Hinkle’s watchful eyes, I was sorry to see another pair of eyes watching for me. Once again, Erin was standing just outside the door.

“Well, if it isn’t Little Orphan Annie.”

“What do you want now?” I asked as I moved around her. “You should have to pay for those jars of jam.”

“You should learn to be more careful. Besides, you don’t need to worry about paying for those jars. You won’t be around long enough to even see your next payday.”

I faced her. My throat tightened. “Lucky for me, I’ll be seeing lots of paydays, because I’m not going anywhere.”

She laughed. “Sure you are. Don’t you want to know where?”

I pushed past her. “Go home, Erin. You’re wasting my time.”

She grabbed my shirt and yanked me back. “You’re a flat-out liar, and you know it!”

“I’m sick of this, Erin. You can’t hurt me, so quit acting like you can. If you could, you’d have done it before now. So go home.” I started walking as calmly as I could, but inside my chest my heart was flipping and flopping around like a fish out of water. Something was different. Erin had gotten her proof. I knew it.

“Don’t walk away from me,” she called. “I had to stay with Mother after church yesterday. She’s helping to get a charity drive together for the town needy. Mr. Cooper from the bank was there, and he nominated three families he hadn’t received mortgage payments from in a couple months. Yours was one of them. Said he’d just sent a letter out to your mama last week.”

That loudmouthed banker. Didn’t he know it wasn’t professional to go around announcing his customers’ business to the entire church congregation? I wasn’t God or anything, but I didn’t think he’d exactly go to heaven for that.

“And that’s not all,” Erin continued. “He said if any of you missed another payment he’d have to take your houses away, same as he had to do to Ben.” Erin’s voice softened
when she said the part about Ben—softened enough to make me believe that somewhere in that hard shell of a girl was a person with
some
feelings.

I didn’t ponder it for long. Rage rushed through me. How could Mr. Cooper do that when he sat in church every Sunday singing hymns and saying his prayers? Taking people’s houses away definitely was not a Christian thing to do.

“And you’re happy we might lose our house?” I snapped.

“I am when it concerns you getting what you deserve. Before we came here I was dumb enough to believe any lie that sounded half true.” Her jaw tightened. “I was too weak to stand up for myself. I vowed I’d never be that way again. And I meant it. I’m gonna be something someday. I’m gonna be better than all of them. Better than you. Everybody who ever lied to me or pushed me around will be sorry.”

Erin’s face displayed a stubborn determination I hadn’t witnessed on anyone except Daddy. For once the expression didn’t inspire me, it frightened me.

“You’re a spoiled, selfish brat, Erin Sawyer. Now leave me alone before I make you wish you hadn’t been born.”

“Oh, no, I’m not done yet. Since I knew you were working, I went by your house to check on your mama. She didn’t answer the door, but I’m sure you know where I found her. On the back porch. I went up to talk to her.…” Erin leaned in close to me, pretending she didn’t want
anyone else to hear. “But I don’t have to tell you the rest, because we both know you’re smart enough to figure it out on your own.”

Thoughts and emotions pulsed through me. They crashed into each other, forming new feelings I’d never known—panic, terror, and a dark fear that my life was about to change forever. How could I have been so stupid, letting Mama stay outside? She didn’t know what was good for me anymore. How could she possibly know what was good for herself? I was being punished—punished for my stupidity.

Erin grinned. “Don’t look so worried. I know from Ben that it’s your birthday, and I’ll be over this afternoon with your present, a gift straight from the church charity drive. I hope your mother feels up to visitors.”

She pranced off down the street.
Let her prance the whole way home
, I thought.
She doesn’t know who she’s messing with
.

I had no doubt she would be back, but the question was, who would be with her? Her snoopy mother, snitchin’ Mr. Cooper, Sheriff Dawson? Maybe all of them. And they’d all be alert, ogling Mama’s condition, looking for any reason I’d be better off at Brightside Orphanage.

Erin had gotten her proof, and now I needed mine. Proof that I could take care of me and Mama. Erin Sawyer had gone flat-out nuts if she thought for one second that I was gonna let her convince people I was better off at some orphanage, bright side or not.

 
Sixteen
 

By Land or Water, the Wind Is Ever in My Face

I stood in the doorway watching Mama. As far as anyone in town was concerned, the thing that made Mama crazy was that she never went to church anymore. Forget that she never went
anywhere
anymore. Same thing happened to Mrs. Butler. She stopped going to church, and suddenly she was insane. Of course, no one ever said that to her face, but I overheard many a whisper in the church pews on Sunday mornings after Mr. Butler died.

I once asked Mrs. Butler why she didn’t go anymore. “I don’t see much point in praising God for taking away my family’s only chance at survival,” she’d said.

When I’d told Mama what she said, Mama’s eyes had gotten real big. “I don’t want you listening to that kind of talk. You understand me? Louise isn’t in her right mind just now.”

I told Mama I understood, but I didn’t think there was anything crazy about what Mrs. Butler had said. She was hurt, that was all.

Mama went over to have a “talk” with Mrs. Butler the very next day. Ben heard it all from his room—Mama telling Mrs. Butler she ought not say such things; Mrs. Butler saying that Mama didn’t know what it felt like to lose her husband. Mrs. Butler refused to take back what she’d said, and Mama refused to accept that. When Mama came home, I could tell she’d been crying. She wouldn’t talk about it, and she and Mrs. Butler stopped being close after that. It’s strange how so-called Christian folk, like Mama, end up deserting the ones who need them most. But I reckon a lot of folks are funny like that. They get so worried about being right, they end up doing wrong.

Ben told me he’d once caught his ma crying in her room. She’d tried to hide it, but when Ben asked her what was wrong she’d said she was alone and no one in the world cared. I pictured all the people in church on Sundays, whispering about Mama now instead of Mrs. Butler. I watched Mama, and I wondered if she and Mrs. Butler could be friends again, even though Mama had been so unkind.

I walked over to the rocker and squatted down. “Mama?” I whispered. I gently touched her arm. My skin appeared darker against her paleness.

The breeze had blown long strands of hair into her face. I tucked them behind her ear. “Mama?” I said, louder this time.

The
rumm-rumm, rumm-rumm
of the rocker against the wood continued. My throat burned as I fought back
the pool of tears that jumbled and blurred Mama.
Look at her, Daddy! Look what you’ve done! Why did you leave? You could’ve stayed. You should’ve
. All the thoughts I’d struggled to fight back every day after Daddy left came flooding out. Pain throbbed from my clenched fists, my knuckles white and ridged beneath my skin. I wiped the stream of tears from my cheeks.

“Don’t worry, Mama,” I whispered. “Everything’ll be all right.”

I hurried inside to straighten the house. Everything had to be perfect. People who claim something is wrong will look for any reason, no matter how small, to say they’re right. That was exactly what I expected from my visitors.

I didn’t have long to ready things. A knock at the door signaled that my time was up.

“Who is it?” I called, dreading the reply.

“Church charity. May we come in?” The voice was sickeningly sweet, dripping with honeyed venom. Mrs. Sawyer.

“Just a second.” I took a deep breath that did little to calm my nerves, then opened the door. “Please, come in.”

I welcomed the visitors one by one: Mrs. Sawyer, Erin, and finally Mr. Cooper. I tried to do it just as Mama had done many times before. She called it “receiving guests.”

Three pairs of eyes began darting around in all directions, sizing up their surroundings. These weren’t guests; they were a bunch of meddling ninnies.

“Please, have a seat,” I instructed, motioning toward the parlor.

“Thank you,” said Mrs. Sawyer. She perched her round body on the edge of Mama’s wingback chair, steadying herself in the find-out-what-I-can-and-get-out position. “We felt,” she went on, “we should check on you, Elizabeth. Mr. Cooper said you all had been having a hard time since your daddy disappeared. Any word from him?”

One thing was clear. She wasn’t wasting any time with getting into her prying questions. Erin smirked at me from her mother’s side, and Mr. Cooper nodded as though I should be grateful for his interference.