Every Day After (10 page)

“I didn’t want to trouble you,” I lied, trying to say as little as possible, even though I’d already gone off and said too much.

“Well, just the same, I’ll be by to see her. If there’s something wrong, the longer she goes without a doctor, the worse she’ll get.”

“Yes, sir” was all I knew to say. I didn’t want to get into an argument with Dr. Heimler over exactly what would happen to Mama if I let him look at her. I knew he’d just up and cart her off to the hospital whether I wanted him to or not.

We all stood in silence for a few seconds before Dr. Heimler broke it. “Well, I’d best be heading on. You let your mama know I’ll be over to check on her by Friday. I mean it.”

“Yes, sir,” I said, though I didn’t intend to let him set a toenail in our house.

Dr. Heimler tipped his hat. In less than a few seconds he was folded back into his car and driving down the street. When his car rounded the corner, I turned to Ben. He was shaking his head at me.

“What?” I asked.

“I don’t know, Lizzie. Don’t ya think maybe the doctor could help your mama? Maybe you should’ve told him the truth.”

I stomped off toward Powell’s. “No, I shouldn’t have. You know what’d happen if I did.”

Ben caught up to me. “What?”

“He’ll put Mama in the hospital with all the crazies, and then what? She’ll be alone, and I’ll be sent away to the you-know-where.”

“What if he can help without the hospital? I ain’t never heard of Dr. Heimler sending somebody away like that.”

I looked at Ben. I needed him to understand. “I can’t chance it. Maybe he can help her, but what if he can’t?”

Ben didn’t reply; he just shook his head again. He thought I was wrong, but I knew I wasn’t. We sat on the curb in front of Powell’s Café and began tracing circles in the dirt with the toes of our shoes. Dust puffed into the air.

“And anyway,” I said, trying one more time to convince him, “hasn’t anybody ever told you that sometimes people aren’t what they seem? If Daddy’s told me that one time, he’s told me a million.”

“Well, I reckon he’s right about that. There’s lots of folks around here who ain’t what they seem. Did ya know Mr. Reed was married once?”

Crabby old Mr. Reed married? Something about that picture didn’t fit. “He couldn’t have been. Who’d have married him?”

“I don’t know who she was, but she was real pretty. I saw a picture of them together. It was sitting on a table
in Mr. Reed’s front room. He left me in there to go get my pay for the week. The man in the picture wasn’t as skinny or wrinkled as Mr. Reed, but it was him—just a younger him.”

“I wonder what happened to her.”

“Well, when he came back he caught me staring at the picture, so I asked him about it. He picked it up and studied it. I’d swear I saw his chin quivering like he was about to cry, but maybe it was just his age. He kept on looking at the picture and told me that lady had been his wife. She died in childbirth not two years after they were married. The baby died less than a day later. Couldn’t breathe right. He said he reckoned he hadn’t talked about it to anybody in years. I asked him why he was all right with talkin’ to me. Just like that, he stopped studyin’ the picture and started studyin’ me. He said he reckoned it was for two reasons: first, he knew I understood what it’s like to lose someone you love, and second, I remind him of the little boy he might’ve had.”

The gears in my brain were turning fast, trying to put everything Ben was telling me together. “Mr. Reed had a son?”

“ ’S what he said.”

We sat for a while just thinking. Mr. Reed having a son once must’ve interested Ben for the thought of it to keep him quiet longer than five minutes. It interested me too. It was strange, and it proved the point I was trying to make
about Dr. Heimler: people aren’t always what they seem. Sometimes they seem worse than they are, sometimes better. But the trouble is you never can tell who is who. And that is why, as far as Dr. Heimler went, for Mama’s sake, I’d have rather been safe than sorry.

 
Ten
 

A Loyal Heart May Be Landed Under Traitor’s Bridge

I held my breath all week long, waiting on a visit from the doctor. The way Erin flounced around me at school, you’d have thought he’d started on his way over five years ago. Of course, I guess her winning the sixth-grade extra credit on Wednesday gave her another reason to flounce. I let her believe she’d gotten the best of me for the time being. I thought it’d soothe her enough so she’d leave me alone for good.

When Saturday finally rolled around, with its cloudless sky and soothing warmth, Dr. Heimler still hadn’t shown. I breathed a deep sigh of relief. I figured he’d been so busy he’d forgotten about Mama. I figured wrong.

I’d just finished hanging the last of the clean clothes out on the line when I spotted that all-too-familiar blue Buick coming up the drive. I grabbed the laundry basket and took off to the back porch to stand with Mama. I prayed he hadn’t seen me take off across the yard. The
roar of the car’s engine grew louder as it approached the front of the house. Then came a shrill squeak from the brakes and the engine went silent.

For a moment, I could only hear the rhythmic rocking of Mama’s chair and the rapid drumming of my own heart. In the quiet, both seemed louder than a marching band. One sound I could do nothing about, but the other I could. I gripped the back of Mama’s rocker to stop its movement.

I pictured the doctor’s long body leaving his Buick. The slam of a car door echoed through the air. Heavy footsteps tromped onto the front porch, sending vibrations through the house, right to the bottom of my feet. I held my breath, tightening my grip on Mama’s rocker.

The world around me felt too still, too silent, as though the smallest of sounds would give me away. Of all the times for the birds to shut their beaks, why did it have to be now?

Five soft knocks floated through the air. They sounded far away and muffled, but they were close enough to make the baby hairs on my neck prick up.

I waited, afraid to move, listening for the sound of departing footsteps. Instead came five more muffled knocks. Mama must’ve heard too. She pulled against the grip I had on her chair.

“Mrs. Hawkins? Are you in there? It’s Dr. Heimler.”

Please, God, please. Just make him go away. Make him think we’re not here
. Still no footsteps.

Five more knocks, harder this time, pounded through the air. My fingers tingled, fighting to steady the chair.

Please. Make him go away. Make him leave
. I released one hand long enough to grip my locket. I closed my eyes.
Please, please, please
.

Then, I heard them—the scuffle and stomp of departing footsteps, the roar of the car’s engine, and the crunch of dirt and gravel beneath the tires. I let go of Mama and she started to rock—back and forth, back and forth, same as always.

I tiptoed through the house and peeped out the front window. Dr. Heimler’s car was just turning out of our drive, a haze of dust boiling behind it.

I had no doubts. He’d be back, but it wouldn’t be today. I had to get out of the house and into town. Fast. I wasn’t supposed to be home, and though it sounded crazy, I’d have liked nothing better than to run right smack into the doctor. He’d see me in town and think I’d really been there the whole time. And if he asked about Mama, I’d tell him she was napping. Easy as pie.

I got myself ready and moved Mama inside. She resisted me at first, but she had to go in. Since Erin had threatened to have Mrs. Sawyer send Dr. Heimler, I hadn’t left her outside alone. When I was in school, she was inside. When I was in town, she was inside. The only times Mama was able to enjoy her porch were those days I was home and able to keep an eye on the driveway. I was thankful she always stayed wherever I left her.

I made her comfortable in her chair, fixed her a glass of tea sweetened with a little sorghum syrup, double-checked she had hold of her book, then hurried into town. I was due to pick up some mending work from Mrs. Martin anyway. With all her boarders and housework, she didn’t have the time for it. But I had studying time that’d changed over to working time, along with the lower grades to prove it.

I glanced up at Mr. Reed’s when I passed. I hadn’t talked to Ben in close to a week. I was beginning to think he’d rather be at Mr. Reed’s than with me. Mr. Reed must’ve felt the same about Ben. The few times I’d been into town over the past week, I’d looked up and seen Ben hard at work hauling some of the larger pieces of junk out of Mr. Reed’s yard. Working right alongside him was Mr. Reed himself. Even Ziggy was out of his pen, trailing Ben back and forth across the yard, his whole back end wagging. I didn’t see any sign of life now, so I headed on to Mrs. Martin’s.

I only squeezed in one and a half knocks before the door jerked open. Mrs. Martin shoved the bag of clothes into my hands so fast she pushed me backward. “Here you go, dear,” she said, each word spoken faster than the last. “Need it back in a week. Let your mama know.”

“Yes, ma’am. I’ll te—”

I didn’t even get “tell her” out before the door slammed shut again. I shrugged and started back home with my work. After Daddy lost his job, Mama did anything and
everything she could to help bring in money—kept a garden with extra vegetables to trade, mended clothes, did laundry for elderly women. She’d taught me how to do those things too, so I could help her move through the work faster. More work getting done meant more money. I still kept up the garden and did some mending, but the laundry had had to go. It took me forever to do our own. Still, I’d learned from Mama pretty well. While I wasn’t as skilled as her, I was good enough to keep Mrs. Martin believing Mama was the mender, not me.

I was just turning back onto Main Street when I spotted Ben coming out of Hinkle’s. The sun beamed down like it was shining just on him. I threw up my hand and started to call out, but I changed my mind real fast when I saw who was coming out behind him: Erin. And she wasn’t coming out at the same time by accident. She was coming out
with
him.

Her head whirled around in my direction. I ducked behind a parked car and watched them through the glass. She turned away and said something to Ben, then tilted her head back and laughed. I couldn’t help but wonder if she was laughing at me.

The next few minutes felt like an eternity. Each second ticked painfully past as I watched my best friend, my only friend, laugh with the very person whose goal in life was to knock me down. Maybe that was it. Maybe the whole scene being played out in front of me was Erin pushing herself on Ben, trying to take away the last person on
earth who cared about me. But Ben. Ben was letting her do it.

A spark of anger ignited within me and slowly, slowly, began to burn. I wanted to march right over to them and give Erin a piece of my mind, and then walk away from Ben, leaving him standing there feeling the same disappointed hurt I was feeling. But I didn’t.

I watched Ben talk to Erin as though he didn’t mind that she was the one person trying to destroy everything I cared about. A throbbing ache began to overpower the small flame of anger. The ache ran through my body, turning my feet to bricks—bricks too heavy for my legs. Bricks mortared to the ground.

They passed Powell’s and rounded the corner, walking side by side. Even though they’d gone, I continued to watch the world through the glass. I couldn’t move. I didn’t want to. I grasped my locket and prayed that Ben was just being Ben—a peacemaker too nice to be mean, even to a girl like Erin. He’d always seen the good in people, even those with the darkest of hearts. Ben wouldn’t betray me. Would he? What if he’d talked to her before? Many times before? Times I knew nothing about? I shuddered at the thought of it.

Ben had never once lied to me. My feet grew lighter, and I turned toward home. The small flame of anger flickered deep inside me, encased in a mountain of hurt. But the mountain had a crack in it, and through that crack emerged a sliver of hope. Ben would tell me the truth
about him and Erin and, as sure as I was breathing, I was going to ask him to tell it.