Tomato Girl (26 page)

I nodded. My throat felt dry.

Clara squeezed my hands. “I don't know what all happened to you, Ellie, but I know you going to be all right. You don't need to worry.” Clara smiled, then left the room to get my drink.

I pulled myself up in Clara's bed and rested my back against a pillow. The soft down made a nest for my head. From now on, whenever somebody said the word comfort, I would think of Clara's room, lying on her thick mattress under a quilt patterned with stars.

My eyes circled the room. Beside the bed, a tall wardrobe rose in the corner with folded blankets lined up on top. Next to the wardrobe stood a table covered with shells, feathers, beads in bowls, and cards.

I looked toward the light coming from the window, which was
covered in yellow sheers that matched the walls. A lady's straw hat rested on the sill, propped against the screen.

Clara's room reminded me of Miss Wilder's house, where objects had special meaning if only you knew what and where to find it. Like Clara's shells, and her bowl of beads, she'd have stories about them. Maybe one day she'd tell me.

But this was no time for stories. Daddy could be anywhere in the world by now, and no story could bring him home.

The front door slammed and Jericho's voice rose from down the hall. “Clara?”

“In here,” Clara answered. She sounded like she might be in the kitchen, because I heard the sound of a spoon or spatula scraping a skillet.

I tossed the quilt back and tiptoed to the door to hear what Jericho said. Maybe he'd heard something about Daddy. I smelled the food Clara mentioned, warm ham and bread, and something sweet like coconut. My stomach growled and I suddenly wished I hadn't turned down the meal Clara offered.

“Lord, Clara. It ain't good news, that's for damn sure.”

“Hush up, Jericho. Don't be using bad language in my house. Go on, tell me. What is it? Did you find Rupert Sanders or not?”

“Nobody's going to find that man, unless it's Sheriff Rhodes.”

“Sheriff Rhodes? What do you mean?” Clara's tone was serious. “And don't speak too loud now,” Clara added, lowering her own voice.

“I went down to the store. Course it was closed, but there was a man feeding them dyed chickens they got …”

I remembered leaving my nameless chick alone on my bed when I ran out of the house after Daddy. I closed my eyes, praying he'd be safe until I got home. I worried even more about Mama. What might she do when she saw everybody gone? The dimming light outside the windows told me the day was almost gone. I needed to go home, but not before I heard what Jericho knew about Daddy.

“That'd be Mr. Morgan. He owns the store, Jericho.”

“Nope. Morgan headed down to his little place in Florida. According to his son, Fred, he goes there every spring for a short spell.”

“And?” Clara's voice rose.

“Fred come down from Philly to run things. He the one I talked to when I went to the store. I asked him about Rupert Sanders. He told me he ain't never met Mr. Sanders, but knows that he's the man that usually manages his father's store.”

“Well,” Clara interrupted, “did he say why Rupert Sanders wasn't there feeding the chickens instead of him?”

“I'm getting to that, woman, hold your horses. He says Mr. Sanders's wife suffered a fall down the cellar, and he needed the time off to tend to her.”

“Well, he certainly ain't tending her now, is he?”

Jericho continued. “I thanked him, got ready to leave. That's when the man asked if I happened to grow tomatoes or knew somebody who raised enough extra to sell …”

“Maisy Jones once tried to sell tomatoes to the store, but they didn't need hers, said they had plenty. Doesn't that little Reed girl sell her tomatoes in there?”

“Yep, but he says the girl who sold them produce moved in to help Mrs. Sanders, and they weren't sure she'd be bringing in tomatoes this year.”

Clara grunted like she didn't believe or like what she heard. “Did Mr. Morgan's son know where Rupert Sanders might be now?”

“He didn't know, but then Sheriff Rhodes showed up as I was leaving.”

“What'd he want? I figured Millie Rhodes would have him in church all day.”

“Seems Mason Reed shot himself last night.”

The words sounded like a hammer in my head.

“Dear God,” Clara said. “Dear sweet Jesus!”

Jericho continued. “Sheriff Rhodes was looking for the girl,
Tess, to tell her the news. I didn't stay to hear no more. I'm guessing we found that child in the road 'cause her daddy done run off with that girl.”

“Lord have mercy, that poor child. She can't stay home alone with her mama. What are we going to do? You know Julia Sanders ain't well …”

“Clara, now that was a long time ago when you read for her.”

I didn't know what she meant by reading, since Mama could read on her own.

“You don't know what I saw when I took that woman's hand in mine and turned it over, Jericho. The dark places inside her mind. I took to the bed for three weeks after that, don't you remember?”

“Course I remember. Who you think fed you broth from a spoon when you was so weak you couldn't lift your head to eat?”

“Well, if you remember, then you know why I'm not sending her back there.”

“Clara, have you done looked in the mirror? You think a colored woman can just up and keep a white woman's child?”

I didn't wait to hear more. Sheriff Rhodes would go to our house looking for Tess. The letter might still be on the floor. What if the sheriff read it? Would he know what Daddy did? What if Mama came downstairs carrying Baby Tom?

I had to hurry home.

The window. There was no other way to leave without being seen.

I moved Clara's straw hat and pushed on the screen, the folding kind Daddy sold at the store. It fell away with one hard shove. Careful not to knock over Clara's beads and shells, I stepped up onto the table, climbed through the window, and fell to the ground.

A sharp pain ran through my arm. My elbow had hit a rock and split open, but there was no time to worry about that. I pulled myself up, brushed the dirt from my dress, and ran home.

T
HE SHERIFF'S BROWN
police car was parked in front of my house. I looked into the car's back window, half expecting to see Daddy handcuffed and Tess crying at his side, but the car was empty except for Bubba, the sheriff's black and tan hound.

I took a moment to say hello to Bubba, and then walked up the sidewalk toward the door. Up the first step and I heard Mama's laughter through the screen door — the shrill, loud laugh when she is in her too-fast mood. I remembered Jellybean's grave, how she'd laughed and fretted with her gown and hair. The signs had been there. The changes when she goes from the dark, sad place, into the light, giddy place. This place seems like a happier one, but like spinning tops and bubbles, is impossible to control.

I should have left with Daddy and Tess. If only I could go back, wrap my arms around his ankles and hold tight. Handling Mama without Daddy scared me enough to make me want to run away, just like Daddy.

Then I thought about Mama lying in the basement stairwell after she fell, how her pretty face was smeared with blood, and
I'd believed she was dead. I remembered how scared and alone I felt.

I ran inside the house. “Mama? Mama?”

“In here, Ellie,” Mama's voice came from the kitchen.

Sheriff Rhodes and Mama sat at the kitchen table, two brown mugs and a carton of milk between them. The room smelled like coffee and aftershave.

“Ellie, where have you been?” Mama asked. “And what happened to your arm?” Mama noticed the cut where I'd fallen from Clara's window. “And where are your shoes, young lady?”

“I … I went to see … Mary Roberts.” Bringing up Clara and Jericho seemed a bad idea, and too much to explain. I ignored her question about my shoes.

“Hey there, little gal. You sure are growing into a pretty young lady,” Sheriff Rhodes said. “You're almost as pretty as your Mama.” He laughed and looked at Mama.

Mama smiled back, then pursed her lips. “Why, George, you know Rupert could walk in that door any minute now and hear you flirting with his wife.” Mama had put on a clean dress, but the top buttons had come undone and her lacy bra showed. She'd brushed her hair and covered the cuts and bruises on her face with a layer of makeup. She almost looked like the Mama before Tess came, but not with her dress undone, not with red lipstick smeared on her mouth as if she'd colored out of line. Her fingers twisted a paper in her hands. I knew it was the letter from Mason Reed because I could see some of the large-print words.

“Actually, I do need to speak with Rupert. Is he around?” the sheriff asked.

Mama reached out her hand and touched Sheriff Rhodes's tan sleeve. “And I thought you'd come by to visit me.”

Sheriff Rhodes's plump cheeks turned red. He laughed again. “That, too. But got to earn my keep, you know.” He pulled back his chair and said, “Excuse me a minute.” He stepped toward the back door.

“Of course.” Mama looked at me as she picked up the carton of milk. “Want something to drink, Ellie?”

“No, Mama. I'm fine. I'm glad to see you're all better.”

“Oh, and I am, Ellie. I woke up this morning, and no one was here. At first, I sat on the steps and cried, but then it was as if a huge gray cloud floated away from me. Why, I think I could climb out on the roof, spread my arms and fly, I feel so good. Don't you feel it, Ellie? There's an electricity in the air, passing through my veins, my skin, my hair.” Mama left the crumpled paper on the table. She ran her fingers through her hair and shivered.

“I don't feel it, Mama.”

Mama pouted. “That's too bad, Ellie. You're too serious. Just like your father. Learn to fly, Ellie!” Mama lifted her hands up in the air and tossed her head back, giggling.

Sheriff Rhodes stood by the kitchen door. He held it open, spat dark juice into the bushes, then came back to the table.

“Chewing is a bad habit, George.” Mama rested her arms on top of her head. “I'd think that wife of yours would make you give it up.”

“You know I don't let Millie tell me what to do.”

Mama laughed. “I see. Yes, I see. Now why don't you tell me what you want?”

“Uh, yes.” Sheriff Rhodes pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his forehead. He seemed more uneasy around Mama than I'd ever seen him. “Well, it appears there's been an accident.” He paused.

“Accident?” Mama frowned and gasped. “Rupert?”

“No, no. Rupert hasn't been in an accident. It's, well … Maybe we shouldn't talk about this in front of little ears,” he said, nodding in my direction.

Mama looked at me. “Ellie, honey, why don't you go upstairs, play with the new chick. I saw the Easter Bunny left you one.”

Arguing would do no good, so I said good-bye to Sheriff Rhodes, and pretended to go to my room. Instead, I knelt behind
the railing at the top of the stairs and listened to what the sheriff said.

“Julia, I'm going to be frank. A neighbor found Mason Reed dead in his house this morning.”

“Dear God!”

My stomach tightened. I didn't want to hear the rest, but listening was the only way to find out what Mama and Sheriff Rhodes knew.

“Yes. Shot in the head,” the sheriff continued. “Looks like a suicide, but we won't know until the autopsy report comes in. Thing is, I needed to let his girl know, and folks tell me she's been staying here.”

“I see. Well, that's sad news, George. A man taking his own life.”

“Yes, it is. Of course, the man drank like a fish, and folks can do foolish things when they're drunk. Things they later regret.”

“I suppose Mr. Reed won't have the opportunity to regret now, will he?” Mama said, then giggled.

“Well, that's right. But damn, Julia, I didn't mean it that way. You should show a little respect for the dead.”

“Of course!” Mama laughed. Loud laughter that lasted too long. Yes, this was the Mama that came sometimes after the sad Mama went away.

Sheriff Rhodes waited for Mama to quiet before he continued. “I don't know what comes over you at times, Julia. I swear I don't. Anyhow, I'm looking for his daughter, Tess. She's a minor, so I have to follow up on her, see that she gets placed with relatives if we can find any. Is she here?”

“Well, no. She's not here. She came to help when I fell. That's where the bruises came from in case you're wondering.”

“I did wonder. Didn't want to ask, but …”

“Did you think Rupert beat me?”

“No, of course not, Julia. I've never pictured Rupert as the kind of man …”

“You have no idea what kind of man Rupert is, or what he might do. He screws her, did you know that? His little tomato girl? Right here in my house!” Mama smacked the table.

“Julia, get ahold of yourself. Do you need a drink?” Sheriff Rhodes walked toward the cabinet where Daddy kept bottles of liquor. “What's Rupert got around here, any Scotch?”

“What are you trying to do to me, George? Do you want me to get drunk so I'll blow my brains out like poor Mason Reed?” More laughter.

My eyes blurred with tears.

“Of course not, Julia. Don't be ridiculous. Now listen …”

“Do you still think I'm pretty, George?”

“Yes, you know …”

“How pretty?”

“Damn, Julia, I need you to cooperate. I've got to find the Reed girl.”

“Here, read this. The little whore's father apparently wrote to her, telling her to come home, which I'm sure didn't set well with Rupert. Find my husband. The girl won't be far away.”

I ran down the stairs, screaming, “No! No! No!”