The Same Stuff as Stars (5 page)

“He's just going to pee.” She leaned out. “Hurry, Bernie. Mama's ready to go.”

“Wait! Mama, wait! I'm coming right now!” Bernie scrambled awkwardly into the truck, trying to pull his pants up as he came.

“You just better hurry,” Verna said, throwing the truck into gear and starting into the road. “Before those folks catch you peeing in their yard.”

Bernie tried desperately to pull the door shut after him, but it wouldn't close. Angel leaned across him and grabbed the handle. “Mama, slow down. Please. The door's not shut, and Bernie's not buckled in either.”

Verna stopped the truck with a jerk. She sat there, her hands drumming on the steering wheel, while Angel first helped Bernie get his pants up all the way to his belly button, buckled his seat belt, and then yanked the door shut hard. At the sound, Verna turned to look at her. “You're quite the little mother, Angel.” Angel wasn't sure whether it was a compliment or not, so she just nodded.

They drove past the place on the road where Verna had made the U-turn, a long way past, so that Angel was afraid they would be lost again, but Verna was slowing the car at every corner, looking for signs. She must have spotted the missing sign she'd been looking for, because now they were turning right onto a dirt road she hadn't tried earlier.

In the gathering dusk Angel could just make out the white lettering. “Morgan Farm Road! That's our name.”

“Your daddy's people's name. Yeah.”

“Did you see that sign, Bernie? This road has our name on it!” Bernie just looked at her. He was still mad at Mama, breaking her promises and almost leaving him behind at least twice, but Angel couldn't help being excited. Morgan Farm Road. It was hard to imagine relatives so important that a whole road would be named after them. That was like Washington Street or Ethan Allen Boulevard. She wanted to ask Mama if they were going to the actual Morgan Farm that the road was named after, but Verna was leaning out of the window, looking for a left-hand turn. Better not to bother her with questions right now.

“Okay, this is it,” Verna said.

The mailbox with
MORGAN
in faded blue paint was almost hidden by bushes. You'd wonder how the mailman would get to it and put mail in it. Angel's tummy began to tighten up. She wanted to grab Bernie's hand, but she grabbed her own instead. This was the place, she knew it. Their new home. The dirt driveway was shorter than the one in Burlington. Almost at once they were sitting in front of a house that—was it possible?—that Angel knew she had seen before.

“Have I ever been here?” she asked.

“Both you kids been here, but Bernie wouldn't remember. You ought to, though.”

“Yeah,” said Angel. This was where that trailer was. She was sure of it. Instinctively, she looked to the right. Yes, on the other side of the junk-filled front yard, just beyond what was left of the fence, there was the trailer, paint peeling, with weeds all around its base, but there it was. The house didn't look in much better condition than the trailer. It had been white once, or gray. It wasn't much of anything now but bare wood. There were panes broken in several of the windows. Someone had taped newspaper to cover the holes.

“It looks like a haunted house,” said Bernie, and it did look spooky in the twilight.

“Okay, kids. Wait here a minute. I'll be right back, but first I got to talk to Grandma.” Verna jumped out of the cab but slowed as she climbed the steps to the porch and approached the door. Angel could see her, her fist in the air, just holding it back, as though trying to get up the nerve to knock.
I bet she didn't even say we were coming. I bet this Grandma person doesn't even know we're coming to live with her.

“I don't want to live here, Angel.” Bernie had jammed himself against her, and although Verna had by now disappeared behind the shabby door, he was whispering, “I don't like it here.”

“It'll be okay, Bernie,” she said, and as she said the words, she almost believed them herself, because she found herself remembering something. She couldn't have said what it was. It was more like a smell you recognize but can't name. Something good had happened to her here. In all the craziness before Wayne went to jail, something good had happened here.

It seemed ages before the door opened and Verna came out alone to the car. Angel was already steeling herself for a trip back to the city, but instead Verna said, “Okay. We can stay, but you kids gotta be quiet as bunny rabbits. Your great-grandma is an old lady. She won't tolerate any of your screaming and carrying on.”

“I don't want to stay here,” Bernie said. His voice was quiet but stubborn. “I want to go home.”

Verna ignored him. She was getting the suitcases out of the back and waving with her head for the children to follow her. Angel unbuckled them both and nudged her brother. “Don't worry, Bernie. I'll be here with you. Haven't I always taken care of you?”

“I don't wanta...''he started, then bit his lip and clambered down out of the cab.

Angel pulled Grizzle off the floor. “Here,” she said. “You want to hold on to Grizzle? Just for a little while? I can't give him to you. It would hurt Daddy's feelings if I gave him away, but you can sleep with him for a while if you want to.”

He grabbed Grizzle's fat neck and buried his face in the blue plush. Angel took his free hand, and together they walked up the rickety steps, across the porch crammed so full of junk that there was only a narrow path to the door. “Stand up straight, Bernie.” She took a deep breath and stood up straighter herself. “We got to make a good impression.”

 

 

FIVE

They stepped through the front door into a hall. Ahead of them was a dark staircase, on one side a closed door, on the other an open one. “In here,” Verna called. They followed her voice to the open door. At first, neither of them saw the old lady. Although it was still twilight outside, the house was as dark as night. Angel blinked and looked around. It seemed to be a kitchen. The room was hot and stuffy, as though no one ever opened the windows. If they walked straight in they would walk into a table, so she stood still in the doorway, holding Bernie's hand, waiting for Verna to tell them what to do. It was too easy to start off wrong in a strange situation. She wanted to warn Bernie not to whine or ask for a milk shake, but she didn't dare speak out loud.

“Who's that, Angel?” See? She should have told Bernie to keep quiet, and now it was too late. Up until then his left arm had been squeezed around Grizzle's neck in a death grip and his right hand tight in Angel's hand, but he dropped the bear on the floor and let go of Angel's hand at the same time. His curiosity had overcome his fear. “Angel, I said, ‘Who's that?'” He pointed at something beyond the left side of the table.

“Shh, Bernie. And don't point. It's not polite.” Angel grabbed his outstretched finger, but he wrenched free and headed around the table for a closer look.

“So these are the kids, huh?” The voice was coming from a rocker tucked between a huge black woodstove, which didn't seem to be lit, and a long, rough wooden counter with cabinets above and below and a sink three-quarters of the way to the opposite wall. The person in the rocker seemed to be bundled up in blankets. “Wouldn't of known them.”

“Well, you can't really see them now, can you, Grandma?” Verna said. Her voice was fakey cheerful. “Don't you ever pull up the shades?”

The old woman shook her head. “You leave my shades be, Verna.”

“Well, just let me turn on a light, okay? They're pretty cute kids, if I do say so myself.” There was a bare light-bulb hanging not quite over the center of the table. Verna fiddled with the wall switch and got a faint glow from the dusty bulb. “You behave yourself now, Bernie,” she said through gritted teeth.

By this time Bernie was standing squarely in front of the rocker. “Are you cold?” he asked.

“I'm always cold,” the old woman snapped. “That's what happens to you when you get old like me. You ain't never warm. Not even in the summer.”

“Oh. Then why don't you turn on your furnace?”

“Because I ain't got one.”

“You got a stove. Why don't you turn that on?”

“Bernie,” Verna said. “Don't you go asking your great-grandma a lot of questions.”

He ignored her. “I'm hungry,” he said to the old woman.

“Bernie!” Angel said.

“That's enough, Bernie.” Any fake cheer had left Verna's voice. “I'm warning you.”

“Well, I wasn't exactly expecting company,” the old woman said, sliding her eyes toward Verna. “I don't know what there is to eat around here.”

Bernie glanced back at Verna to see how close she was to him before he leaned over and said something into the old woman's ear.

She began to laugh, a funny laugh, like her laugh box had rusted and she couldn't make it work smoothly. “Pizza!” she said, almost choking on the words. “Now, where in the blazes am I going to find a pizza around here?”

“Angel. Take your brother upstairs this minute.” Then, as if realizing that she hadn't, really cleared anything with the old woman, she changed to her sweet tone of voice, “Which room do you want the kids in, Grandma?”

“I don't guess it matters none. Either room. They ain't neither of them clean. I wasn't exactly expecting—”

“Take your brother up,” Verna ordered. “I'll be right there.”

Bernie still hung around the old woman's chair, so there was nothing for Angel to do but go around the table and grab his hand. “C'mon, Bernie.”

“So this is Angel.” The old woman stretched out a bony finger as though to touch her.

Angel shrank back a little. She didn't mean to, but she couldn't help it. There was a funny stale smell coming from the bundle of blankets in the rocker.

“I won't bite you, girl.” Angel turned to look straight in the woman's face. Was that what the witch had said to Hansel and Gretel? A black mole with a stiff wire of white hair coming out of it grew almost on the tip of the old woman's nose. Just like a witch, except...

“You remember me?” She peered up into Angel's face. There was a little spit in the corner of her mouth.

Angel started to shake her head, but something stopped her. “I used to—to play with your nose,” she said.

The woman cackled her rusty laugh. “That's right, you did. I forgot that.”

“It's funny looking,” Bernie said. He reached out to finger it. Angel grabbed his hand.

“Don't, Bernie. That's not polite.”

The strange laugh again. “You got mighty polite in your old age, Miss Angel.”

“I said, Take your brother upstairs,” Verna said. “Grandma and I got stuff to talk about.”

“There ain't any sheets on the beds. I wasn't expecting—”

“Git!”

This time Verna meant business. Both children headed for the door. Angel grabbed up Grizzle and pushed Bernie ahead of her out into the hall and up the dark, narrow wooden stairs. Partway up he stumbled, but she caught him before they both fell backward.

“Stop pushing, Angel.”

“I'm not pushing. Just get going before Mama yells again, okay?”

“I'm going as fast as I can. If I fall down and break my head, it will be all your fault—”

“I said hurry.”

“—and you'll be sorry sorry sorry.” They were at the top by the time he finished his string of sorrys.

“Did Mama say right or left?” Angel asked, anxious. She felt as though she and Bernie had too many wrong things going against them already. She needed to get something right.

“I'm not going to tell you.”

Peering into the darkness, she poked her head first into one room and then the other. In the room on the right, she thought she could make out two small beds. “I think this one's ours, Bernie.” She turned just in time to see Bernie starting back down the stairs. She grabbed him by the arm. “No, you don't!”

“I'm hungry,” he said, trying to yank away.

“So am I, but there's nothing I can do about it, is there, until Mama says so, so just come on in here and sit down and behave yourself for once in your life.” She dragged him into the room on the right side of the hall.

“You hurt my arm.”

“Well, I can't trust you one minute, Bernie. The second I let go you're—Okay, okay.” His face was screwed up ready to yell. “Okay, don't cry. I'll let go if you promise not to run back downstairs until Mama says so. Okay?”

He nodded.

She plopped him down on the nearest bed and shoved Grizzle at him. Automatically, he clutched the bear in his left arm and stuck his right thumb in his mouth. He'd probably be sucking his thumb after he could shave.

“Now, you sit right there, and I'll find a light switch so we won't have to sit up here in the dark, okay?” There was no switch evident in the dim light of the room, but there was a bare bulb hanging down from the ceiling, so there had to be some way to turn it on. She felt all around the wall. Behind her back a light went on.

Bernie was standing on the bed under the bulb, grinning.

“Where was the switch?”

“I yanked the string and it came on,” he said, as proud as if he'd just invented electricity.

“Okay, but you shouldn't fool with it.”

“I just pulled the string. I didn't fool with it. See?” He pulled the string off and on to show her.

“Don't!”

“Why not?” He pulled it again. “I was just showing you.”

“Okay, you showed me. Now, sit down and behave yourself.”

“Why don't you sit down yourself, Miss Boss?”

She sat down beside him. Grizzle lay on the floor between the two beds where Bernie had dropped him in the excitement over the stupid lightbulb. She reached for the bear and dusted him off. For a few seconds she held him, rubbing her cheek against his ear.